


And there she was

by overworked_underproved (originaldaniphantom)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Human, Comfort, Downton Abbey vibes, Edwardian Period, F/F, Gabriel is not a jerk, Ginny Woolf vibes, Happy Ending, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Period-Typical Homophobia, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Vita & Virginia vibes, but so much, for it, in which the author projects onto Zira heavily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originaldaniphantom/pseuds/overworked_underproved
Summary: Human AU! Zira Fell is an aristocrat, Antonia Crowley is the lady's maid of a close friend. That gay shit ensues. A bit angsty, quite mushy, a lesbian story with a happy ending.I've written a lot of this. It will update on Sundays! If you like it, let me know :)(This will go through the end of WWI)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll put gummy bears in the mail for you if you leave a comment or kudo, party people.

1912 

Harsh, driving rain accompanied the long ride from Arcadie Castle to London. It was a typical English April morning: the green blurs of trees were saturated and shrouded in gray, and the moist chill was causing Zira Fell’s pale blonde hair to frizz. She twisted a stray piece around her finger, a book in her other hand, as the train trundled south. 

“Oh, do leave your hair alone, Zira, you’ll go bald.”

At the interruption by her mother, Frances, Zira instantly dropped her hand to worry at the hem of her skirt and snapped her head up from her novel. “Right, sorry, mother.”

Frances’ face softened. “Are you nervous, love?”

Gabriel, Zira’s older brother, spoke before she had the chance to. “More like bored in advance, I should think.”

“Hardly _bored_. There are some events I’m quite anxious to attend. The flower show, the Proms, the summer exhibition…” Zira trailed off. “But I suppose I am nervous to be presented. It is the King, after all. So much of my future depends on my....composure under stress.”

“I thought spinsterhood was your life’s dream anyway? Isn’t that why you insisted on waiting til 20 to come out?” asked Gabriel, a smirk lifting his lips. 

“That may be, but one should not narrow one’s choices if it can be helped,” Zira volleyed back with a smile of her own. 

“Oh hush, Zira, your only _choice_ will be among the gentlemen falling over themselves to pay calls to you.”

Her mother’s attempt at comfort hung awkwardly in the air. After a moment of sympathetic eye contact from Gabriel, Zira muttered, “yes, quite,” and her eyes fell back to her novel. 

“You’ll be alright, little one, and back to your books in no time.” This time, Gabriel’s smile was soft and genuine. 

Zira and Gabriel’s father, Neil, Earl of Arcadie, had arrived at their townhouse several weeks earlier for the opening of Parliament. Zira felt his absence keenly as she and her brother spent time with Frances without their father to act as an intermediary. She meant well, but Frances’ “guidance” usually carried a tone of finality that was jarring, and more than a little manipulative. 

“Zira, dear, why don’t you read to us?” 

“Oh, I...that is, I don’t know if y--if this novel would be to your liking, mama.” 

“Whyever not?”

Gabriel’s smirk was back. “I should think mama would be interested in first-hand experience with such an infamous work.”

“Infamous?” Frances asked, one eyebrow raised. 

A blush bloomed on Zira’s chest and cheeks. “Somewhat infamous, yes.”

The older woman held her fine, pale hand out expectantly and flicked her fingers once. With a deep sigh and with her eyes trained on her lap, Zira handed the book across to her mother. 

“Where on _Earth_ did you find a copy of this?” 

“It’s beautiful, mama, really. I found it at a shop in town.” 

“ _Beautiful?_ The writing of a criminal deviant? Have you brought anything else? Anything _decent_?” 

“Do you _really_ only think of Oscar Wilde as a ‘criminal deviant,’ mama? Where’s your latent radicalism gone off to?” 

“Those are simply the facts, Gabriel,” she said haughtily, holding the book by its corner as if it were soiled, “no doubt the book is of some....aesthetic value. Nonetheless, I hardly think it appropriate reading for a young lady weeks away from her debut season.” She set the book between herself and Gabriel on the seat, out of her daughter’s reach. 

Zira wrung her hands in her lap and nodded once. 

“It’s only a book, mama,” whispered Gabriel.

Frances made no reply. 

By this time, the woods were yielding to buildings. The outskirts of north London were soot-stained and grayer than the cold press of the sky. Two children ran down the street laughing, one holding her coat aloft to shield the other from the rain. Zira watched them with a small smile, and her wringing hands calmed slightly.

Their chauffeur collected them at the station. Riding through the labyrinthine streets of London, Zira noticed that those who were already staying in the city were ensconced in pearl-white townhouses already. Glittering candlelight danced out of the windows of Westminster as the car made its way to Fell House, the city residence of every Earl of Arcadie since the Regency. 

After being ushered into the house by a footmen, mother, daughter, and son retired to their rooms to change for dinner. As Gabriel passed Zira, he surreptitiously handed her _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ with a wink and carried on his way. Apparently, he had rescued it from their mother. Zira smiled broadly, hid the book in the folds of her skirt, and hurried to her room. 

Ana, her lady’s maid, was waiting for her. “How was the ride, my lady?”

“Pleasant enough,” Zira replied as she ran her fingers along her dressing table. “Although I got an earful from mama about my inappropriate choice of reading.”

“Wilde?”

“Yes. Although his writing is so beautiful I can hardly fathom abandoning it because of his...indiscretions.”

“Too right, my lady.” Ana’s eyes twinkled knowingly as she rearranged Zira’s hair. 

Zira hummed absent-mindedly. “And there was much talk of my imminent lifelong commitment to the highest male bidder.”

Ana grimaced sympathetically. “Perhaps someone suitable will prove worthy of your attentions after all, my lady.”

Zira smiled, sadness clouding her seaglass green eyes. “Perhaps.”

“There you are, my lady, fresh as spring.”

“Thank you, Ana.”

She _wanted_ to take the stairs two at a time to see her father. She _wanted_ to throw her arms around his neck like she had done as a child. Instead, she lifted her skirt carefully and slowly descended the stairs, smiling brightly as she entered the drawing room. 

“Zira, my darling girl,” her father beamed as he and Gabriel stood to greet her. 

“Papa!” He wrapped her in a too-short hug and kissed her cheeks. 

“How was your journey?”

“Long and rather dreary, I’m afraid. And what of Parliament?” 

“Mmm. Much the same, in fact,” he replied with a conspiratorial smile. 

Just then, their butler announced it was time to go through to dinner. Zira loved having her entire family around the table. Regardless of her mother’s imperiousness or her brother’s occasional arrogance, having everyone close gave her the warm feeling that she was protected and loved, if not quite wholly accepted for who she was. 

“You must remind me of your schedule, Zira,” said her father.

“If I can remember it. Let’s see...next week, I shall begin a short stay at Crowley house to visit with Bee--Beatrice, you remember, the Duke of Auburn’s only child. Following that, I shall stay here and do my best to prepare my finest curtsy for Queen Charlotte’s Ball. I suppose the rest depends on the invitations I receive.”

“They will be plentiful, no doubt.”

“I’ve arranged several already, in fact,” her mother said, a her aloof English demeanor betraying a touch of excitement. 

Zira smiled tightly. “Brilliant, mama, thank you.” 

* * *

Zira arrived at Auburn Hall just before dinner the following Monday, chaperoned by her mother. It was opulent: endless rows of windows yawned from every floor, the red brick punctuated by white marble columns. The house rose from a broad lawn in the square. 

“It’s even grander than I remember,” said Zira, squinting against the rain to take in the wide, graceful edifice. 

In the entrance hall, the household was gathered in a line to the right, while Bee and their parents smiled from their position on the left. 

“Welcome, my dear Lady Arcadie,” Bee’s father took Frances’ hand and kissed it. 

“Thank you, Duke. You remember my daughter, Zira.”

“How could I forget?” he said with a smile, kissing her hand. 

“Bee, darling!” Zira beamed, extending her hand for a ladies’ handshake. 

Bee returned her smile, and they turned to listen to the Duke introduce the staff. 

“This is Smith, our butler. Miss Rosewood, head of the household.” 

Zira and Frances nodded to each in turn.

“And this is Antonia, she is Beatrice’s maid and will also be taking care of you during your stay.”

Zira made eye contact with Antonia’s wide, peculiarly golden eyes, and missed a step, stumbling slightly into her mother. A blush spread across her collarbones and quickly bloomed onto her face. 

“M’lady,” Antonia said, suppressing a smile, as she curtsied.

As the rest of the staff were introduced, Zira made a truly valiant effort not to stare at Antonia. She failed. Her eyes flickered between where she was supposed to look and where she was drawn to look. Antonia was tall, taller than Zira by a head at least. Her eyes were wide and bright and _golden_. Her wavy, brilliantly red hair was tied in a low bun. She had a strong jawline and the finest hands Zira had ever seen. 

Bee lightly touched her arm, startling her out of her fixation. “Zira,” they whispered.

Zira inhaled sharply and turned to follow the rest of the dinner guests. When she glanced back from the door to the drawing room, the rest of the staff had dispersed, but Antonia was standing, head cocked to the side and brow furrowed. When Zira turned, she met Antonia’s eyes. Her mouth fell open and Antonia smiled broadly. The kind of smile that changes the temperature of the room, the kind of smile that brings the sun up early. 

Short of breath, Zira forced herself to turn away and sank, shakily, onto a settee in the drawing room. 

* * *

Zira’s hands shook throughout dinner. Her thoughts were relentless, spinning and ricocheting through her head. 

There had been one other girl, when Zira was 12 or 13, who had made her similarly weak in the knees, ready to run away and run toward, brought a fervent blush to her pale skin. She was the daughter of the family who owned the neighboring estate. They had met a few times, but one occasion, a house party for Gabriel’s 18th birthday, had been different. Not for the first time, Seraphina had smiled at her across the dinner table. Suddenly, that familiar smile had made the ground drop out from beneath her like a gallows plank. She realized, quite suddenly, that she was painfully, dazzlingly _attracted_ to her. She’d seldom even seen her parents kiss each other, but she wanted desperately to kiss Seraphina. She wanted to smell her hair and feel her fingers laced through her own. These images flashed through her mind dizzyingly, like the same few bright horses racing round a track. At the end of the day, she’d sat on her bed, white-knuckled hands wrung together in her lap, for hours. Her unblinking stare had yielded painfully to tears of confusion and fear. She hadn’t been able to sleep. Comfort had come at last when a meek knock sounded on her door, and Bee had quietly come in to sit with her. 

They had laid their hand gently on Zira’s. “It’s alright, my girl. You’ll be alright.” 

“No, no, you don’t understand. I’m. There’s. Something wrong with me, I think, Bee. Today I...with Ser--well, I felt a certain...I think I might be going mad, I don’t know.” 

“It does feel like a certain type of madness.”

At this, Zira’s head had snapped up. “How could you tell? Do you think the others could tell?”

“No, not to worry. There’s no harm in the feeling,” Bee had said, and squeezed Zira’s hand. “It will pass.”

But Zira had felt _harmed._ Violated, somehow, by the sensation. 

Her small face broken open and pale in the fading firelight, Zira had turned to Bee. “What if it doesn’t?”

It didn’t _feel_ like criminality, or degenerate deviance. It felt like an inevitably, like a math equation reaching its solution. Crime sounded like something someone chose, and she did not choose this. It happened to her, like thirst or cold. 

After dinner, in the drawing room, facing her debut season, Zira’s thoughts threatened to spill over. That simply would not do. 

“If you’ll excuse me for just a moment,” she said, already halfway out of the room, hands clasped in front of her, “I have something of a headache, I think I’ll take the air for a bit.” 

“Are you alright?” asked Bee, rising to follow her. 

“Yes, quite alright, just need a few moments alone.”

Bee’s brow was furrowed, but they sat back down, mouthing _talk later?_

Zira nodded and made her way to the courtyard on unsteady legs. She plucked an umbrella from the stand by the door and stood in the chill. The arhythmic pelt of the rain did nothing to bring order to her thoughts. 

“Alright m’lady?”

“Oh! An-Antonia, was it?” she asked, whirling around to see the maid’s elegant figure silhouetted in the doorway.

“Yes, m’lady.” 

Antonia stepped out into the rain, toward Zira. 

“You, er. You surprised me.” _Understatement._ “Oh, heavens, here.” Zira extended the umbrella. Antonia raised one eyebrow, looked her up and down and stepped into its shelter. Zira had not thought this choice through. Antonia was all but pressed against her side, shoulder to shoulder. She could hear her breath, could see it twisting and dancing on the wind. It was agonizing. 

“Thank you m’lady.”

Zira didn’t trust herself to talk, so she gave a small nod. The silence stretched.

“Are you, though? Are you alright, m’lady?” 

God, that soft Scottish accent was unbearable. Zira turned to meet the redhead’s eyes. A flower seeking the light. 

“I. Um. Perfectly, thank you, yes, perfectly alright, tip-top.” 

Antonia gave a small laugh. “Good, m’lady. Then may I ask why you’re out in the rain?” 

“Just taking the air.” 

Antonia placed her hand over Zira’s on the umbrella handle. The blonde had simultaneous impulses to jump and to thread their fingers together. Instead, as she so often did, she ended up simply freezing, standing stock-still and staring at their touching hands. Facing each other, their noses, their _lips_ , were just a breath apart. 

“But you’re freezing, m’lady,” Antonia whispered. 

“A-am I?” 

Antonia hummed and shifted her fingers slightly, as if to emphasize how frigid the other woman’s fingers were. “Yes. M’lady,” she murmured, leaning forward even further into Zira’s space. 

Zira inhaled sharply. “I...I suppose I should be getting back to the drawing room.” The sound of the rain flooded back into her senses, and she turned on her heel and hurried into the house. She felt far away from her body the rest of the evening as she drank weak after-dinner coffee with the others--anticipation and chaotic anxiety warred for the top spot in her thoughts. Antonia was her maid for the next two weeks. Which meant tonight, imminently, she would have to confront her (and all she carried with her) again. While being _undressed._ She was simultaneously _so glad_ she hadn’t brought Ana and frightened that she should have. How was she to know that such an intoxicating person would be assigned to her? 

On their way up the stairs, Bee caught Zira’s arm. “Whatever is the matter, darling?” 

“Nothing, nothing, just a headache from the long day, I imagine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I am, my dear, thank you.” With that, Zira ducked into her room. 

* * *

When Antonia came into the room, she found Zira distractedly twirling one of her white-blonde curls around her finger and staring above her own shoulder in the mirror. She looked up when the door opened. 

“Evening, m’lady.”

Zira gave a small smile and stood. She felt like her stomach was full of hot, roiling water. “Evening, Antonia.” 

“May I?” 

“Oh. Um. Yes.” 

“How does your head feel, m’lady?” 

The taller woman stood at Zira’s back and started undoing her dress. Zira couldn’t help but picture her fine fingers fiddling with the cloth-covered buttons one by one. She leaned one hand on the dressing table to steady herself. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Your headache, m’lady. Has it passed?”

By now, Antonia was easing the light blue lace of Zira’s sleeves off her shoulders. Her fingers brushed the blonde’s collarbone, eliciting a barely-suppressed gasp. Then, suddenly, Antonia was bent low, holding the dress open so that Zira could step out. This she did, fighting to control the shaking in her knees. Each petticoat that was peeled away revealed another wave of heat. 

“Sit, m’lady.” She sat. A little too quickly. Antonia unclipped each stocking from Zira’s corset and rolled the stockings down her legs. Her fingers grazed Zira’s plush, soft thigh as she went. She took a deep, shaky breath as they both rose to standing. Looking down to meet Zira’s gaze, she was nose to nose with her for a second time in one night. 

Zira was completely overwhelmed. Her thoughts were _thoroughly_ scattered, reduced to images: Antonia’s head, bowed at her thighs, Antonia’s graceful hand on hers around the umbrella handle, the firelight in her gold-hued eyes. Antonia stepped behind her and started loosening her corset stays. As her ribcage was freed, she inhaled deeply to steady herself. 

The redhead stepped around her once more, completing her orbit. Gooseflesh spread across Zira’s body like a wildfire at the realization that she was dressed only in a chemise and Antonia was fully dressed. Catching sight of this, Antonia smiled. 

“Cold again, m’lady?”

“Er. Y-yes. Cold.”

“To bed then,” Antonia said gently, stepping away. “Good night, m’lady.”

“Good night, Antonia.”

As the door closed, Zira sank to sit on the bed, pressing her legs tightly together to give some satisfaction to the wet ache between her legs.

“Oh, _fuck_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Antonia’s note translates to: “if it please you, meet me in the courtyard at midnight”

Bright sunlight filtered through the curtains of Zira’s room the next morning and she blinked her eyes open. It was later than she usually woke--falling asleep had not been an easy task. Stretching her arms above her head, she let her head fall to the side to gaze at the pull string for the bell that would summon Antonia, furrowing her brow at it as if it had offended her. 

There was really no avoiding one’s lady’s maid. She had never really dressed and undressed without the help of a maid, and she didn’t know if it was actually possible. She rolled out of bed, giving the pull string a wide berth, and opened the dresser drawer where her things had been laid out. She chose a chemise and slipped it over her head ( _easy!_ ). She spent a few seconds stuck, staring at her corsets. She picked one up as if it were a foreign object and held it in front of herself. Careful to keep the stays laced up just enough to keep the corset closed, she raised her arms and shimmied it over her head. It hung open awkwardly, resting on her hips. With some impressive contortions, she adjusted the modesty panel so it lay flat on her back and awkwardly fastened the hooks of the busk. ( _Front? Check!_ ). She turned away from the full-length mirror, bending awkwardly to catch hold of the stays. She managed to tighten one set, and was fumbling the next when she heard a soft knock at the door. 

“M’lady?” 

“ _Bugger,”_ she whispered. “Yes, yes! One moment. Er, that is...do come in.” 

The door creaked open. And there she was. 

Antonia gave a small curtsy. “Good morning, m’lady.” When her gaze lifted, her lips quirked into a playful smile. She took in Zira’s sad attempt at dressing herself. “That’s _my_ job, you know.”

With a sigh and a smile of her own--and a blush, obviously--Zira admitted defeat. “Yes, well, I. Well. That’s true, I suppose.”

“May I?” 

“Yes, please. Thank you, my dear.”

Antonia’s eyebrows rose at the endearment. She made her way across the room, gesturing for Zira to turn around. As she expertly tightened the stays of Zira’s corset, she said “May I ask why you attempted to do this on your own, m’lady?”

“I’m afraid I just...well...I’ve had the same lady’s maid since I was young and I suppose I was just…” _oh, sod it,_ “I suppose I was just nervous.”

Antonia’s hands stilled for a moment. “Nervous?” She tied the bow at the bottom of the corset and tucked it in neatly 

As the maid opened the stocking drawer, Zira spun to face her. “Yes. Nervous.”

“Sit, please, m’lady.” 

Zira did as she was told and looked down at Antonia. “Really, now, I thought I gave the orders.” It was meant to sound playful, but it came out breathless and tentative. Like a question. _Please keep giving me orders._

“Not in here, m’lady.” Antonia returned, smiling as she fastened a stocking and looked up to meet Zira’s eyes from under her lashes. 

Zira gave a breathless laugh. “Right.”

Before she started the left stocking, Antonia brushed the tip of her finger down Zira’s thigh, perhaps by accident. The blonde tried--and failed--not to squirm. 

Stockings fastened, Antonia went to work on Zira’s petticoats. She didn’t need to look to tie their strings in neat bows at Zira’s waist. Instead, she kept steady eye contact in the mirror. Zira noted that she seldom blinked. Zira’s breath was coming in quick gasps and yet again, she was painfully... _interested._ At this point, she was wearing all of her layers, including a sea green frock. As Antonia gently smoothed a necklace across her collarbones, though, she felt absolutely _un_ dressed. Zira cleared her throat. 

Desperate for a distraction from that electric, golden gaze, Zira asked “What part of Scotland are you from?”

“Portree, m’lady. Isle of Skye.”

“Ah, I see. Do you miss it?”

Her gaze had been fixed on Zira’s left ear, fastening a pearl earring. She looked up to meet Zira’s eyes once more. “Sometimes.” 

_And right now?_

When Zira didn’t say anything else, Antonia continued, “I miss the ocean, certainly. I used to ride my bicycle to the harbor every Saturday morning to listen to it.” 

“I’ve never been to the Isle.”

“You must, m’lady,” Antonia softly insisted. “Does your maid use a brush or a comb for your hair?” 

“A wide comb. Else it turns to hideous frizz.”

“Hideous? I find that hard to believe, m’lady.”

 _What?!_ Having completely lost her power of speech, Zira settled for a noncommittal shrug. 

“There’s a bit of a snarl here, m’lady, may I…” she trailed off, wiggling her fingers. 

Zira gave a small nod...it was the best she could do. 

The feeling of Antonia’s fingers in her hair was almost too much to handle. She was desperately aroused and flustered, leaning heavily on her hands as they grasped the edge of the dressing table. 

Then, suddenly, Antonia was finished with her hair and stepped back. Zira did her best not to sag with relief or lean back, seeking more. 

“Will that be all, m’lady?”

Zira turned to see that something had shuttered in Antonia’s expression, and she was already close to the door. 

“Yes, thank you. You may go.” 

“Thank you, m’lady.” With that, the maid turned and hurried from the room. 

* * *

“Are you recovered from last night?” Zira and Bee were taking a leisurely turn about the park that Auburn House abutted, arm in arm. 

“Yes, quite, dear, thank you,” Zira replied, squinting against the bright morning sun to meet her friend’s gaze. 

“Good, good.” A pause. “And how are you finding your stay, generally?” they asked carefully. 

“Oh. Bee. Darling. Must we?”

“I’m afraid we must, my dear.” Bee was shorter and more petite than Zira, but they had a commanding presence and few years’ seniority. Even outside of their friendship, Bee usually got the things they asked for. 

Zira sighed deeply. “A bit of _warning_ would have been welcome regarding her....” she gestured up and down with her free hand as if to say _her Antonia-ness._

“There are beautiful women around all the time, how am I to predict which ones will have you all besotted?”

Zira swatted her friend’s hand “Shush, please! Someone will hear you. I am _hardly_ besotted.”

Beatrice smiled and patted Zira’s arm. “Of course not.”

“Nonetheless. Well. Who is she?”

“She’s from Portree, on Skye--”

“I know.”

“Do you?” they asked, raising one dark eyebrow. Zira blushed furiously. “She lost her family in some kind of accident when she was fairly young, poor thing. Came to the city looking for a position. We put in an ad when the last girl left, some years ago, and she answered it. Seemed an absolutely charming person, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“If I had, I--I mean. That is yes, I had noticed.” The thought actually made her feel rather sick in several confusing ways. “Shall we sit?” She asked, hurrying to take a place on a bench. 

“Bee, I...it…” she stared down at her clasped hands, blinking back decidedly un-English public tears. “It frightens me desperately. Just. Desperately.” Without thinking, she brushed at a tear with her satin-gloved hand, and a wet spot bloomed on the fabric. “Damn.” She whispered, attempting to dry it on her dress. “Terribly sorry, my dear, do excuse me.” 

Bee wordlessly held out their handkerchief, and Zira took it to discreetly blot her face. 

“I’m quite afraid that I’ll...that I’ll never be happy” _with a man._

“Oh, darling.” Bee took Zira’s hands in both of theirs. “Arrangements can always be made, Zira.”

“ _Arrangements?_ ” she could hear her mother’s voice in her own disgusted tone. 

Bee laughed gently. “Yes, Zira, _arrangements._ It’s far more common than anyone will admit.”

“But I don’t want an arrangement, I want a-a…” her voice cracked. _A life._

“What if, for a while, before you’re engaged and married and locked away in some estate with naught but sheep and books for company--” Bee paused and Zira giggled wetly “What if you...just...lived? You’ve a few years before marriage is urgent, after all, it’s only your first season.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Zira, that sometimes you spend so much time thinking about the dismal banalities of the future that you reject the possibility of an even tolerable present.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Zira said with a smile. 

“I think you could do it. Every day, resolve to think about marriage tomorrow. Until you’re 24 or so, and tomorrow must come.” 

Zira’s smile grew slightly. “I suppose it is worth a try.”

“That’s it, dear, chin up.” 

“Oh chin up, yourself,” Zira retorted with a smile. 

“There’s my girl! Come on then, it’s nearly time for luncheon.” 

“Oh, excellent, yes.” Few things were as distracting to Zira as delicious food, and Bee felt no qualms about using that knowledge to the advantage of all involved.

That afternoon, just after luncheon, the butler brought in a silver plate stacked with several calling cards. Zira looked up just long enough to thank him. Bee rose and began to sift through the small envelopes. 

“Young Lord Chatsworth--such a _bore_ , let’s ask to call on him instead so we can leave at our leisure--Lady Ashton, we’ll accept, although doubtless she’s aiming to entangle me with her son--”

“What’s wrong with Gabriel Ashton?”

Bee scoffed. “Sharing a name with your brother is his only virtue, I’m afraid.” They lifted a small brown scrap of paper from the tray. “What’s thi--oh. Oh, my girl, it’s for you.” Bee waved the paper teasingly back and forth. 

“Is that baker’s parchment? Who is _that_ from? Goodness….”

Grinning, Bee extended the paper to their friend between two fingers. Placing it on top of her novel and reading it, Zira’s lips parted and the back of her neck grew feverishly warm. “Ah.”

“ _Ah_ , indeed,” said Bee, graciously keeping their focus on the plate of calling cards. 

_S’il vous sied, mademoiselle, rencontrez moi à la cour à minuit._

“Good gracious,” Zira muttered.

“I’ll be sure no one disturbs you, my dear,” Bee whispered conspiratorially, retaking their seat across from their friend. “And none of the other staff speak French, so none of them will have read it.”

“No, no, Bee it’s...it’s…” she cast about desperately, looking everywhere but at her friend or the parchment. “It’s...too fast for me.”

“Darling it’s _the season._ It’s _fast_ . People get _engaged_ in as much time during the season.” 

“They do no--”

Bee waved their hand, “Well maybe not officially, but still! Besides, you’ll be outside, it can’t get _too_ sordid out in the midnight chill.” At ‘midnight chill’, Bee wiggled their eyebrows suggestively. 

“Oh _really,_ Bee, ‘ _sordid_ ’? I don’t do _sordid_ , I don’t even do…” she gestured vaguely. 

“Yes, love, I know you don’t really _do_ much, but you’ll jolly well start tonight. I won’t have you letting down my dear Antonia out of shame.”

Zira said nothing, eyes fixed on the note, and the book behind it. 

“Unless you truly don’t want to. Do you? Want to?”

“What I _want_ doesn’t matter, Bee.”

“No need to act the angel for one’s _entire life_ , old girl.” They glanced down at Zira’s novel. “I suppose one could ask oneself...what would dear Oscar do?”

“...be arrested?”

“Oh for _heaven’s sake,_ Zira!” 

“Y-yes, I suppose...I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

Zira replied by rolling her eyes with a smile. 

“So you do want to, yes?”

“...yes.”

“Oh _splendid._ I shall expect a full report in the morning.” Pronouncement made, Bee resumed flipping through the calling cards. “Ah, and one from your dearest brother, asking us to tea this afternoon. We can stay a bit over time to have Ana help you dress for dinner--then your finery can be a surprise for Antonia,” they gave one sharp nod to emphasize their point. 

“Right. Now which of these fine young sophisticates should we dine with tonight?” Bee asked, fanning out the envelopes. 

“Oh, Edward Blexley is always good for a laugh, and his sister is so sweet.”

“I wouldn’t marry Eddie Blexley for all the fire in Hades, but he does have the best gossip. Very well.”

“You don’t have to consider marriage to every young man who dines with you.”

“Tell that to my dear mama.”

With a small laugh, Zira settled back into her novel. She found herself reading the same lines over and over as distracting flashes of red hair, golden eyes, and beautiful hands flickered through her head. 

* * *

“Ah, Gabriel Fell, England’s most eligible bachelor,” Bee called as the butler led them into the drawing room for tea. 

With a broad, devious smile, he looked up from the letter he was writing. “My dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?”

“Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence,” replied Bee as they strolled towards him and offered their hand. He chuckled as he gave them a bow and a kiss. 

“That’s quite enough comedy for now, I should think,” said Zira. 

Gabriel kissed her on both cheeks. “Come now, sister, surely _Much Ado_ could be an exception to your rule? It’s one of his finest.”

“Perhaps,” she replied with a grin. 

“Now, Fell, what news? It’s been an age,” Bee said, taking their seat. 

“Parliamentary or personal?”

“Personal, obviously, I should think that would’ve been obvious!”

Mellow chatter and casual card games carried them through the afternoon. Zira was finding it more and more difficult to control her nerves as the day wore on, and eventually her shaking hands betrayed her. 

“I think I may need to rest a bit before dinner. Bee, would you mind terribly if I rode separately to join you for dinner in a bit? I think I have something here I can change into.”

“Certainly, darling. I shall see you at 8?” 

Zira nodded, and Gabriel stood as Bee rose to leave. At the door, Bee turned back to

Zira. “Do try to...rest. You know. I know how your nerves can be.” 

“Are you feeling nervous, Zira?” asked Gabriel, furrowing his brow. 

“No more than usual, I should think. Which is to say yes, I am suffering a bit from daily nerves, shall we say.”

“Ah, I understand.”

“Good day, darling Bee.”

“Good day, Gabriel. 'Til dinner, Zira.” 

* * *

Zira had resolved to journal during her so-called rest, but instead of the cathartic self-exploration she had envisioned, she was sitting, pen suspended above paper, in her window seat. That was how Gabriel found her when he softly knocked on her door. 

“Come in!” 

“I notice you only lasted one night at Auburn House, sweet sister.”

“Oh, hush. I’m resuming my stay tonight. But you know how I love being at home.”

“That I do,” he said, fiddling with an earring that lay on the bureau. “Zira, darling, is everything quite alright?”

Zira’s eye twitched as she said “yes, perfectly, why do you ask? If anything was amiss I would tell you, of course, you first of all.”

“You’re rambling, I’m afraid,” he said as he took a seat in her reading chair. “You can tell me, if you’d like to.”

“Oh _fine._ If you _must know_ , I am not eager to begin married life and-and as you know, my social graces are somewhat...wanting. I feel as though I’ve been anxious for my first season all my life.” It wasn’t _technically_ a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. She was hoping that the resultant blush could be passed off as related to the nerves she was honest about. 

“You are a _treasure._ Any man would be lucky to have you! Can you think of one lady with a wit to match yours? Or who is half as well-read, or well-versed in philosophy?”

“Oh, you’re too kind, really.”

“See? You can’t!” 

Zira laughed, “no, I suppose not just now. Although that’s not quite what I mean.”

Gabriel looked at her intently, his rich blue eyes seeming to see straight through her, as they so often did. “Then what _do_ you mean?”

She found it difficult to look away. “Oh, Gabriel, it’s....it’s just….” 

She wanted _so badly_ to trust him. He was so dear to her, she was closer to him than to really anyone else. It would be an immense relief for him to know. It might even bring them closer as brother and sister. _Or ruin everything_ , said a voice in her head. 

That was not a risk she was willing to take. She broke the sun-bright focus of their eye contact. “It’s a _ladies’ trouble_ , if you know what I mean.”

Gabriel’s posture drooped slightly. “Right.”

Zira had another half-truth at the ready. “I was _hoping_ to reduce a bit before I was presented. I know that I’m a bit more plump than the average lady. That’s all. Sometimes it preoccupies my thoughts.” Again, not a lie. 

“Oh! Oh, I see. Er...right. Well, I’m sure plenty of gentlemen will find you perfect as you are. If they’re worthy of your attentions.”

Zira gave a shy smile. “Thank you, my dear.” 

Having used up his emotional intimacy ration for the day, Gabriel patted his knees once and rose. “Well, I’ll leave you to it!”

“Come see me off when I leave for dinner?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

* * *

Ana’s knock some time later found Zira asleep on her chaise with her journal forgotten on the side table. 

“Pardon me, my lady, it’s time to dress.” 

Zira blinked her eyes open. “Oh, Ana, thank goodness you’re here. I’m rather hoping...well, that is...I’m hoping to look quite...oh I don’t know….”

“What is it, my lady?” a smile bloomed on Ana’s face. 

Zira blushed and looked at her lap. “I--well--”

“Or should I ask _who_ is it, perhaps?” Ana was the only person besides Bee who was aware of Zira’s preferences and the predicament they put her in. 

“Yes. Oh, Ana, she’s perfectly enchanting, I made a proper ass of myself in front of her on the way in the door. I’m amazed she still wants to talk to me, to be frank.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as all that, my lady. Who is she?”

“Do you promise you won’t let it slip to anyone?” Asking was really a formality. She would trust Ana with any secret. 

“Of course, my lady.”

“Bee’s lady’s maid, Antonia.”

“ _Oh!_ What’s she like? How will you slip away to see her?”

“We must talk as we dress, my dear, I want to look my best.” 

“Right! Right. Of course. Something blue, perhaps? Or creme?” 

“I would be in your debt if you chose for me.” Ana flashed her a smile. “She’s tall--taller than you, even, I reckon, and she has the most beautiful _hands,_ Ana, you wouldn’t believe it. Her eyes are the most peculiar and dazzling gold, fit to inspire poetry. She just has this...air about her. A certain electricity or..or gravity. Her smile had me all a flutter.”

“Then I can’t imagine what kind of _flutters_ you were in when she was undressing you for bed,” Ana said with a cheeky grin. 

“Ana!”

“Sorry, sorry, my lady. How about this one?” she held up a light green frock with pearled beading on the bodice.

“Mmm...do you have other suggestions?”

“Of course, my lady! What about this one?” This time, she showed Zira a silk gown in ivory, with an overlay of palest pink organza. The overlay was gathered elegantly at the waist with intricately beaded roses. 

“Oh, yes, I think that will do nicely.”

Ana smiled broadly. “As do I, my lady.”

“Now, for your hair, I think the headband in gold and pearls would emphasize your eyes.” 

“You know better than I, my dear.” 

Over her left glove, she wore a ring with a starburst of white diamonds. She was lost without a ring to fiddle with, and this was her favorite. Her white-blonde curls were tied in an elegant low coiffe and accentuated by the pearled band that subtly wound its way through them. 

“You look like a dream, my lady.” 

“Really?” Zira asked, worrying her ring. 

“Definitely, my lady.”

“Thank you, Ana, as always. I think it’s time I left.”

“Good luck tonight, my lady,” the maid said with a suggestive raise of her eyebrows. 

“Oh, please….”

* * *

Her nerves were spared the ordeal of seeing Antonia before their meeting, because she did not come at 11 to help her undress. Zira paced in front of the fire in her room, alternately pleading with the clock to move faster and wishing it would stop altogether. On the first toll of midnight, she lit a candle, slipped on an overcoat of Bee’s that she had stashed for her earlier in the day, and peeked out the door of her bedroom. It seemed Bee had kept their promise --the hall was silent and still. She crept along it, doing her best to step lightly in her heeled silken shoes. 

Antonia had not yet arrived when Zira reached the courtyard, so she paced there, too. The moon was bright enough that she could set her candle on a bench, freeing her hands for a more important task--twisting her ring. 

After what felt like two hours, but was probably ten minutes, Zira was angry. _Where is she? Maybe she’s changed her mind? Oh buck up, old girl, she’ll come. ...Maybe it was best if she didn’t?_

“Oh, sod it.” She picked up her candle and made to go back inside to bed. 

As she neared the door, though, a breathless voice behind her said “by god. You’re _here._ ”

Zira whirled around. _Of_ **_course_ ** _I’m here! I’ve_ **_been_ ** _here!_ She froze for a moment to craft a witty reply. 

“...so are you.” _Bugger._

Antonia took a step closer to her. “You...you look...er….” she waved one hand in Zira’s direction. It was shaking slightly. 

“I say, my dear, are you nervous?” 

“Ngk, well, pff, am I-yes, of _course_ I’m _nervous_ ,” she said, her voice slightly higher than usual, “m’lady.”

“Oh no, that won’t do. Please, call me Zira.”

“Zira,” she she said softly. It was reverent, and hesitant, and by far the best thing Zira had ever heard anyone say. 

“That’s better.” She found she was whispering, too. _So much better._ Antonia’s plan seemed to end here, Zira thought with a smile. “Shall we take a turn about the yard? I’m afraid short walks are the only experience I have with...with um. This...sort of thing.”

Wordlessly, Antonia held out her arm, and Zira threaded hers through it. It was so thrilling to be this close to her--properly _touching her_ \--that Zira forgot to ramble nervously for several seconds. 

“Lady Beatrice told me that you like Shakespeare.”

Zira raised her eyebrows and found herself smiling again, “You asked Bee about what I like?”

Antonia muttered something unintelligible and looked at the ground. 

“Yes, I adore Shakespeare. _Hamlet_ is my favorite play. What sorts of things do you like to read?”

Again, Antonia mumbled. 

“I’m sorry, my dear, what was that?”

“I said _I prefer the funny ones_.”

“Oh! Well the comedies do provide marvelous entertainment. Which one is most amusing to you?”

“Oh, what a question...I think I laughed the most during _Much Ado About Nothing,_ but my favorite is _Twelfth Night._ If I had to choose a favorite, that is.”

“How many have you read?”

“Er, most of them.”

“Have you seen any?”

“Just one. Not _Hamlet,_ I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I must take you to see it! They’re always better in person.”

“I’d like that very much, but whatever would I wear?”

“I daresay you would look quite dashing in tails, my dear,” said Zira, with a playful smile aimed up toward her companion. 

Antonia chuckled again, a lovely, full thing. Each time she laughed, Zira felt herself fall further into her gravity. It was intoxicating. Terrifying. “Ah yes, of course. Cross-dressing _would_ fit the Shakespearian theme, I suppose.”

Zira giggled, gave a little wiggle of her shoulders, and said “shall we _both_ go as men? Two young bucks taking in the arts?” 

“I’m afraid you’re a bit short for a gentleman about town.”

“You’re not acquainted with very many gentlemen about town, are you?”

Between lingering giggles, Antonia managed, “no, and a good job that is, too. What would they make of me?”

“In your tails or your maid’s uniform?” Zira was addicted to the sound of Antonia’s mirth. 

Their laughter was its own entity now, derailed and uncontrollable. They kept walking and eventually caught their breath.

“What do they make of _you_?”

“Oh, me? I’m sure I don’t know. I am well-bred, but I’m also terribly bookish and talkative and rather plain. Most gentlemen’s primary concern is a lady’s dowry and allowance, though, so perhaps they find me quite thrilling.”

Antonia had stopped as she was speaking, and Zira realized it a beat later. She was a step in front of Antonia, so their linked arms forced to turn so that they stood face-to-face. 

“ _Plain?_ Who on _Earth_ called you _plain_?” 

“Oh hush, now, there’s no need for flattery at this stage.”

“There is _every_ need, m’la-Zira.” She gently let her hands rest on Zira’s arms. Zira could feel the warmth of them through her coat, and she felt as if all the sensation in her body was concentrated at those two points. “You are an _angel_.”

She said it with such conviction and earnestness that Zira could not find it within her to brush it off. Without deflection to rely on, she had little else to say. “ _Oh,”_ she gasped, leaning forward, falling into orbit. 

Their faces were inches apart. “May I kiss you?”

“I shall be cross if you don’t.”

Antonia laughed softly and brought her hands up to Zira’s cheeks. With an impossible gentleness, she tilted Zira’s head back and closed the distance between them. 

Zira had never felt anything like it. She was submerged in a feverish heat from head to toe. Her eyes squeezed shut and her brow furrowed, as if perplexed by the overwhelming wash of sensation. Antonia’s lips were impossibly soft. Slightly chapped. Absolutely perfect. 

She sighed involuntarily into the kiss and brought her arms up to wrap around Antonia’s neck. She wanted to press into the place where their lips met and live there. 

At her sigh, Antonia gave a small, broken-sounding gasp and walked them backwards a few steps until Zira was pressed into the cold brick wall of the house. Zira was positive she would suffocate from the press of their bodies together. After a moment, she broke the kiss and pressed her forehead into her companion’s, her breath coming in pants, eyes still shut tight. After a few breaths, she leaned back, still encaged in Antonia’s arms, and looked up to meet her molten gold gaze. 

“Antonia. _Beautiful_ Antonia.”

“ _Angel._ ”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Note the rating increase - there's smut in here. 
> 
> Also, Bee uses they/them pronouns, but only Zira knows, so there's some misgendering out of ignorance in this chapter. We'll get Antonia up to speed very soon.

“Good morning, angel,” said Antonia as she swayed into Zira’s room. 

Zira smiled shyly from where she sat in bed. “Good morning, my dear.”

“You can’t-- _ say that _ \--looking so... _ ravishing.  _ Have some mercy.”

“No, shan’t.” Her smile turned coy. 

“Oh  _ god,  _ Zira, you don’t fight fair.”

“Aristocrats never do, I’m afraid.”

“Too right. Now get over here so I can make you decent, for god’s sake.” 

Zira was careful to sway her ample hips on the way over, which earned her an eye roll from Antonia. As soon as she was within reach, Antonia pulled her into her arms and planted a surprisingly soft kiss on her forehead. Zira looked up at her through her pale eyelashes. “I thought you were making me decent, not  _ ravishing me. _ ”

“A kiss on the forehead does  _ not  _ a ravishing make, angel.”

“It does when you do it.”

“I’ll take that,” she said with one of her incredible smiles. “Now, we must get you out there, lest they come knocking and think you’ve overslept.”

“Quite right.”

* * *

That night was the first ball of the season, and no one returned home until gone 2 in the morning. It felt odd to wake Antonia at such an hour, and Zira’s thoughts were spiraling into indecision by the time they were home. Luckily, she was spared the choice--Bee declared that they would call Antonia and they could all have a nightcap in their sitting room. 

They were all in their cotton nightdresses, their untidy, long hair flowing down their backs. Zira and Bee had still been fairly tipsy when they’d come home, and now the three of them were properly drunk. Bee leaned on Zira on one sofa, while Antonia sprawled on the other, glass in hand. Zira couldn’t remember having so much fun since she was a child. She was tucked away. Safe. Free. Absurdly sozzled. 

“What  _ exactly _ is your point, my dear?”

“My point is,” began Antonia, gesturing with her half-full glass of wine, “My  _ point. Is… _ if we’re talkin’ about the  _ bouquet _ \--” this she said in exaggerated English drawl “--you cannae best the oysters of Scotland’s west coast.”

“Oh honestly, my girl, hush before I’m forced to take you to the channel myself and change your mind.”

“Ye’ won’t! You. Won’t.”

“I tried oysters in Rome.” Zira pouted, concentrating harder than she should need to. “Dreadfully salty.”

“One day, when you’re older, I’ll tell you where oysters come from, my child,” Bee said, taking on a mock-serious air, “only then can you underst...understand the  _ saltiness. _ ”

“Oh  _ bugger off,  _ Bee.”

“Ooooooh my, angel, a  _ swear word _ ? Good heavens!”

Zira blushed furiously and Bee whispered “ _ angel?”  _ as Antonia went to refill her glass from the decanter. 

Their friend replied with a small, radiant smile. 

“I should like to go to the seaside,” Zira said dreamily. 

“I should like to become a mermaid, luring men to their watery demise.”

“Nooo, Bee, you’d spare a few, wouldn’t you?”

“Perhaps one or two, at the most.”

“And which two would you allow to survive?” Antonia asked, refilling each of her companions’ glasses. “Which  _ one _ , rather.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively and reclaimed her seat. 

“Only  _ one _ ? Please, darling goddess of the sea, spare my poor brother, then--he is but a harmless victim of masc...masculinity!” 

“Ah, Gabriel would be the first to be spared, angel!”

Bee blushed furiously. 

“ _ My word,  _ Bee, you’re  _ blushing.  _ Dunno if I’ve ever seen you blush.”

“Let’s change the--let’s talk about something else. Antonia! Tell us a story of Scotland.”

“Yes!”

“Mmmm...a Scottish story, they say. Very well. My father went fishin’ one day when he was young, all by his lonesome, on a loch deep in the highlands. And he was waitin’ there, with his line in the water, and the sun had started to go down, and a chill mist had come over the loch.”

Bee leaned forward and poured themselves more wine. “Ooooooo…”

“Yes, m’lady, precisely. When suddenly there was an almighty pull on the line. Never had he felt such a strong pull. But being a strapping young Scot, he started to reel in the mighty fish. Only, he couldn’t. Do ye’ know  _ why  _ he couldn’t, you two?”

“Because it was a ghost!”

“It was a man!”

“Close! No, it wasn’t a fish, but a great green lizard that rose from the depths--”

“Oh  _ honestly _ ,” cried Zira as she dissolved into laughter. 

“No, no, I assure you it’s absolutely true! He had used  _ just the right bait  _ to catch Nessie herself. And when she rose up, her great fins spread, she said to him...d’you know what she said?”

“‘Ye’ pathetic mortal, I should eat you alive for your tresspasses’?”

Antonia shook her head gravely. “No. She said,” Antonia leaned forward and arranged her face into a perfect mask of seriousness, “that was the  _ best bloody oyster _ I’ve ever tasted!” 

Fits of laughter overtook all three of them. 

“Zira, my dear, how many strapping young Scots ensnare Nessie each season, d’you reckon?”

“A better question is how many live to tell the tale!” she replied, wagging her finger around her wine glass. 

After a moment, Bee asked, “What  _ was  _ your father like, dear Antonia?” 

The maid grew quiet. “Kind enough, and truly a fisherman,” she said with a playful smirk, “I trusted him. He was always very sweet with my mother and I. I’d help him sell his catch in the afternoons. Don’t think about him too often, I must say.”

“I don’t mean to pry,” Bee said earnestly. 

“No, no, it’s alright. I know enough about  _ your  _ father to fill volumes, s’only right you should know a thing or two about mine!” 

“Ohhh, give us something good!” Eagerness rekindled, Bee leaned forward. 

“A maid never reveals the secrets of the household, m’lady, you know  _ that. _ ”

“Too right,” said Zira, under her breath. 

Antonia smirked at her, and Bee looked between the two of them with raised eyebrows. 

“Ladies, I’m afraid I’m knackered. To bed?”

“Once more unto the bed, dear friends!” declared Zira, raising her glass. 

“Once more!” continued Antonia, raising hers to meet it. 

“No, no, it’s far too late...early...for Shakespeare.”

Zira laughed, and it bloomed into a yawn. Antonia gave her a look that could only be described as  _ besotted.  _ “Good night, lads.”

“Yes, good night, til tomorrow.”

“ _ At least  _ 9:30 tomorrow, mind.”

“Quite so.”

* * *

When Zira crept into the courtyard a few minutes after midnight that night, Antonia was already sprawled across a bench on the far end of the lawn. She was leaning back on one hand, one leg on the bench, the other draped gracefully off of it. As always, she was without her apron. Without the glow of her upturned face and her hair, she would have been mistaken for a shadow. WIth a flutter of affection, Zira realized that she was stargazing. She blew out her candle and set it down, relying on the moon. 

When Antonia heard her steps and turned to face her, she blanched and froze in her tracks. Again. 

“Oh come now, old girl, just do it,” she whispered to herself, forcing one foot in front of the other. 

“Evening, angel,” Antonia said with a shy smile. 

Zira perched primly on the edge of the bench. “Hello, my dear. A spot of stargazing, is it?”

“Yes, just looking for my favorites.”

“Your favorite stars?”

Antonia looked over at her like she had asked if water was wet. “Of course. Don’t you have any, angel?”

Zira craned her head back. “I suppose I hadn’t really thought about it. I have favorite constellations...Cygnus and Orion, for starters. Although I must say, none of my governesses spent much time on astronomy. My knowledge is quite limited.”

“Haven’t had much formal instruction myself, just what my father taught me. From his days in the navy, navigating by the stars.”

“Oh I see. Well, which is your favorite, then?”

“Do you see the little bear? Ursa minor? Sort of directly above the western tower of the house?”

Zira squinted. “I suppose.” She was fudging it. She knew she  _ should  _ be able to, but couldn’t quite tell.

Antonia looked over at her with a quirked eyebrow, “are you sure?”

“Of course I...no. I’m not.”

“Alright, angel, here’s your first astronomy lesson.” She scooted perilously close. Her voice was quieter when she continued, “hold your fingers out, like a mitten. Yes. Now we need an object to anchor our hand--” she softly wrapped her long fingers around Zira’s wrist. She shivered and summoned her willpower to stay focused on the sky. Gently, she moved Zira’s hand until her fingertips aligned with the tower at the western corner of the house. “Good, now fold in your hand, except your little finger.” As she said this, she smoothly shifted her hand to wrap around Zira’s partially-closed fist. “Now,” she whispered, “do you see the star just here? Above the middle of your little finger?” 

Not trusting herself to speak, Zira nodded, hoping desperately that Antonia would keep her hand wrapped in hers. 

“That’s Kochab. It’s just west of Polaris, you know, the north star. It’s one of my favorites. My father used to say it was his home-going star, because so many of his trips took him to Ireland, and he used Kochab to find his way home.”

With this, Antonia lowered their twined hands into her lap. Zira’s gaze lingered a moment longer on Kochab, then drifted down to meet her companion’s.  _ A home-going star.  _

“Antonia, I…” Zira shook her head, words utterly failing her. “Oh  _ god _ , Antonia.”

Zira leaned in quickly, squeezing Antonia’s hand as she did, and bringing her other hand up to reverently cup her face. She could spend a lifetime kissing her, and it would never be enough. Her lips fell against Antonia’s like a moon into an orbit.

Antonia let out a satisfied hum and slowly brought her hand up to cradle Zira’s neck, where she gently smoothed her thumb back and forth. Zira shuddered, and melted further against Antonia’s lips. 

“You bright, beautiful creature,” she whispered against those lips. 

Antonia gently pulled back, golden eyes boring into those of sea glass green. 

“Zira.  _ Zira.  _ I’m...god, I’m desperate for you.”

“Thank god for that,” she replied with a breathless laugh. 

Antonia returned with a small smile, and slowly stood, keeping Zira’s fingers interlaced with her own and her gaze locked with hers. Zira looked up at her for a moment, then wordlessly stood, and followed her inside. 

Once inside the door, Zira stooped to pick up her candle from the floor without letting go of her companion’s hand. 

As quiet as she could, she whispered, “I can’t see at all, my dear.”

“I know the way, angel, don’t worry.”

One navigating by memory, one totally blind, they made their way upstairs toward Zira’s room. 

“Nearly there.”

Just as Antonia said this, there was a muffled thump as Zira collided with a hallway table. 

“ _ Bugger!”  _ she whispered.

“Easy, there’s a table just there, best avoid that.”

“Oh you  _ fiend. _ ”

She could feel Antonia shrug through their twined hands. 

At last, Antonia gently pushed open the door to Zira’s room and guided her inside. The fireplace still glowed with a low but sufficient light. As she shut the door, Antonia softly pushed Zira against it and kissed her soundly. Zira brought her hands up around the taller woman’s neck, pulling her closer. She found the pins that bound her hair in a low bun and slipped them out, then buried her hands in her rich, red hair. Antonia sighed and opened her mouth just enough to gently swipe it along the seam of her partner’s lips. 

A broken sound spilled from Zira’s throat and she obligingly opened her mouth, revelling in the taste and soft pressure of Antonia’s tongue licking inside. Zira ran her hands desperately down Antonia’s sides and then back up, over the black-clad swell of her breasts. At this, Antonia inhaled sharply and pressed one of her legs between Zira’s. 

Zira had watched a metalsmith shaping a horseshoe, once, and had been enchanted by the sparks that burst from each toll of the hammer on the anvil. They looked so  _ real _ , she wanted to be able to touch them, to feel them swipe against her fingertips. 

She felt them now. Astonishing flashes of dazzling heat and light danced through her entire body. 

With a gentle insistence, she pushed Antonia back and guided her to sit on the edge of her bed. Taking both of her hands in her own and keeping her eyes trained on Antonia’s, she slowly lowered herself to kneel on the floor between Antonia’s legs. Supplication to a home-going star. 

“ _ Zira. _ Oh, angel.”

She looked up from under her lashes to find the anchor of Antonia’s gaze. No words came to mind to translate the feeling, so instead, Zira lowered her hands to Antonia’s shoes and unlaced them one at a time. She slipped each foot out of its low-heeled Oxford and set them carefully on the floor. Turning her head, she left small kisses along Antonia’s calf to the inside of her knee and rested her head there, breathing in the scent of pine, and cold night air, and lemon. 

Antonia brought her hands to Zira’s hair, working out the pins. The white-blonde curls tumbled past Zira’s shoulders. She gently twined her fingers through the soft, pale strands and murmured, “would you come up here, angel?”

Zira nodded against her leg and rose, stepping out of her heels. Looking down at her, hair mussed, lips kiss-swollen, pupils blown, something washed over Zira that she couldn’t quite name. Then, suddenly, she was painfully nervous. Instinctively, she brought her hands together to worry at the starburst ring and bit the inside of her lip. 

Antonia stood up. “Are you alright? Is this...do you...er…?”

“Yes. It’s just. I’ve never...that is, I…”

“ _ Oh,  _ that’s alright, angel, that’s alright.” She nodded earnestly. 

“Have...have you?”

Antonia nodded. “Once.”

“You’ll have to show me what to do,” Zira breathed, twisting the ring around her finger, “and I’m afraid I might get...that is, stay...I’m afraid I’m a touch anxious.”

“That’s alright,” Antonia soothed again, stepping forward and wrapping her hands around her companion’s. “Is this what you want?”  _ Me?  _

“ _ Yes. _ ” Zira replied fervently. “Just, I’m rather...let’s go slowly.”

“However you want to go, I’ll go.” 

Zira nodded, suddenly blinking back a swell of intense emotions, so jumbled together she could hardly name them. Beneath them all, though, thrummed exquisite  _ want.  _

“May I undress you, angel?”

“Please.” 

Antonia circled her, like she always did, this time trailing her fingers across Zira’s collarbone. When she was standing behind her, she bent to plant kisses along her shoulders and nuzzle her nose into the sensitive place behind her neck. Zira shivered and let out a gasp. Antonia expertly undid the buttons down Zira’s back, then worked her hands into her dress to embrace her, fanning her hands along Zira’s stomach. Slowly, she trailed them up to skim over the thin fabric that covered her breasts. With a groan, Zira dropped her head back to rest against Antonia’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. Antonia made quick work of her stockings, corset, and petticoat. She stepped away and Zira turned to see her reaching up to undo her own dress. 

“Oh no, certainly not, my dear.” 

With a steady insistence, Zira turned Antonia around and unbuttoned her dress, sliding it down her long legs. Kneeling behind her, she feathered kisses to her outer hip and slid her stockings down her legs. She wasn’t wearing a corset. Zira stood and pressed a kiss to her companion’s lips. 

“So few layers, my dearest one,” a kiss, “delightful,” a kiss. 

With a smile, Antonia walked them back until Zira’s knees hit the bed, and she obligingly lay down, eyes wide, and leaned on her elbows. 

As she mirrored her partner’s movements to join her on the bed, Antonia asked “how do you feel?”

“Good, my dear. Amazing. Safe.”

Antonia smiled broadly and lay on top of her, threading one leg between Zira’s and applying the slightest pressure. “Is this good?”

“ _ Yes.  _ More, please.  _ Please. _ ” 

Antonia’s kisses grew hungry and desperate as she ground her hips against Zira. 

“Ah,  _ ah,  _ that feels so lovely.” Zira lightly raked her nails up Antonia’s back, hiking her chemise up around her chest. “Please?”

In response, her partner smiled and moved to straddle her hips, sitting up to pull her chemise off over her head. Zira wanted to touch every blessed inch of her skin. She delicately traced her fingers up over Antonia’s stomach and down again, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs. Antonia had let her eyes flutter closed and was rocking her hips lightly against Zira’s own. She let her hands stop just short of the thatch of brilliant red hair between her partners legs, gently circling both thumbs in the crease of her thighs. 

“ _ Angel.  _ Such a sensuali- _ ah!”  _

Zira had brought her hands up to cup Antonia’s small breasts, rhythmically rolling her nipples between two fingers. The more pressure she applied, the sharper Antonia’s breath became, and the more insistent the roll of her hips felt against her. 

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, Antonia.” 

“Ngh, angel, my god,” she replied, scooping her hands up and under Zira’s chemise. The blonde lifted herself slightly so that Antonia could slide it over her head. A moment later, she was completely awash in rich, overwhelming sensation when her partner leaned down to press their torsos together. The touch of stomach to stomach, chest to chest, was exquisite enough to elicit a small cry from both of them. Every inch of Zira’s skin was alight with almost painful, exquisite  _ awareness.  _

“Roll onto your side, my angel, I want to hold you.” 

She did, and Antonia wrapped herself around her back, rubbing her hand along the plush roll of Zira’s stomach and down. Further...further…

“May I touch you?” she whispered, “please?”

“ _ Oh god, yes. _ ” 

Antonia slid her hand lower to gently trace the throbbing, wet outline of her lips, then dipped two fingers deeper, to rub a long line from her entrance. 

“Fuck, oh my...I have never felt this--oh!” Antonia began to rub gentle circles around her clit, rolling the hood gently between her two fingers. 

“Good, angel, that’s...you feel so good.”

“ _ Oh  _ I can barely take it, Antonia,  _ please _ .” 

“Please  _ what _ ?” she asked, wIth a particularly wicked flick of her fingers. 

“I want,  _ oh _ , I want you inside me,” Zira rasped, spreading her knees to punctuate the statement. 

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck and shoulders, Antonia gently slid one finger inside. “ _ Fuck,  _ Zira, you’re so  _ wet. _ ”

“You di-ah-you did that, my dear.” Antonia stroked inside her, searching along her walls with the pad of her pointer finger. “More please, please. More.”

“You’re gonna kill me talking like that.”

“Nonsense, I can hardly say any words-mmm-any words at all!”

With two fingers inside, and angled just so, Antonia at last found that sacred spot. She could practically  _ hear  _ her lover seeing stars. 

“Uh, um, how are you...how are you  _ doing that _ ?  _ Please  _ don’t stop,”

“I literally wouldn’t dream of it, angel.” She crooked her fingers to stroke insistently at Zira’s walls, and the blonde squirmed desperately against her, grinding her hips forward onto Antonia’s hand. 

“I want- _ need _ -to see you, my dear, please.”

With gentle pressure, Antonia pressed Zira onto her back and slid her fingers home. Propped on one elbow, she watched Zira’s face, enraptured. 

“My god, you’re exquisite.” She brought her thumb up to rub rhythmic circles at Zira’s clit. 

“ _ Antonia. Antonia, please _ .” It seemed the only word she could remember was her lover’s name. She repeated it like a prayer. Like an incantation. “You’re  _ so good. _ ” 

Antonia moaned into Zira’s shoulder and rubbed faster, then rose to cover her mouth with a messy kiss, an uninhibited kiss, licking into her mouth hungrily. Zira pressed her head to the side and furrowed her eyebrows tightly, desperately rolling her hips into Antonia’s hand. “Antonia, darling, please, don’t stop.  _ Don’t stop. _ ”

“Look at me, angel.”

She did, and suddenly she was spasming around Antonia’s fingers, the overwhelming wave of her climax sweeping her under, legs shaking, eyes locked with her lovers. When she came back down, panting heavily, Antonia slid her fingers out of her. She twitched helplessly. 

“I want to make you feel that way, please, can I please touch you, my dearest Antonia, please.”

“Yes  _ of course  _ you can, angel,” 

Zira gently rolled them to the side and raked her gaze up and down Antonia’s long, lithe body. And froze. 

Antonia noticed, and said “touch me, angel, you can’t do anything wrong, I’m so close, please.”

“Oh, oh my dear, yes.  _ Yes. _ Could you, er...help me? Show me?”

“ _ God  _ yes.” With no more preamble, Antonia laid her hand over Zira’s and slid it down to cup her aching wet heat. 

Zira’s eyes went wide and she pressed the length of her body into Antonia’s side. “Oh god. It’s  _ you.  _ It’s you.”

Antonia nodded, beginning to guide Zira’s hand to rub rather frantic circles against her wet folds. “My dear, you feel amazing. Just... _ perfect. _ ”

“Ah, fuck, god,  _ angel,  _ I feel it  _ so much _ .”

“Good, my dear, that’s good, that’s lovely, you’re doing beautifully, you made me feel so wonderful, darling.” She pressed gentle kisses up her partner’s neck and nuzzled her cheek with her nose, then let her lips linger there as Antonia pressed her hand more insistently against herself. 

“I was--ah--already so close, angel, I--”

“Go on then, my dearest, yes, I can’t wait to watch you.”

When she came, Antonia let out a high-pitched, broken sound and then went quiet, mouth hanging open, holding Zira’s hand firmly against her clit as she trembled and spasmed. As she relaxed, Zira leaned down to kiss her softly, working her way from her forehead to her lips, and up to the tip of her nose.

“ _ Angel. _ ”

“Yes, my dear?”

In reply, Antonia gave a shining smile. “You’re so beautiful. It’s rather...overwhelming.”

Zira turned onto her side, nestling into her lover’s shoulder, kissing her neck softly. 

Antonia gently tracing her hand up and down Zira’s arm. After a few moments, she murmured, “tell me something, angel.”

Zira perked up, peering up into Antonia’s eyes. “What shall I tell you, my dear?”

“Hmmm...something...something no one else knows.”

“I rather think you already know something about me that no one else knows.”

This prompted a proper hearty laugh from Antonia. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Let me think,” she paused, kissing Antonia’s soft cheek. “Oh! Alright.” She wiggled her shoulders “Several years ago, I found, in an antiquities shop that I had snuck off to, a copy of the Bard’s 4th folio!” she reported with a glowing smile. 

“You  _ did?  _ Angel, that’s incredible! Where is it? Can I see it?”

Zira looked up at her sheepishly. 

“You  _ didn’t  _ lose it? You must tell me you didn’t lose it.”

“...gave it away.”

“You  _ what! _ ”

“ _ I gave it away!  _ To a museum! I didn’t have the means to preserve it properly, and I wasn’t meant to be at the antiquities shop in the first place. So I snuck it off to the art museum in Sheffield the next time we went into town. With a little note asking them to take good care of it. Oh  _ do  _ stop that!” 

Antonia was trying to keep quiet, but she was laughing through a hand over her mouth. “Oh angel, that’s..you’re…”

“What? Foolish?”

“No! No. Not at all. Incredible, is what I was about to say. Just...astonishing.” 

WIth a smile small and a peck on the lips, Zira said, “right, your turn!”

“Ah, right, should’ve known you’d ask…” she paused, “right. Once, I took in a pet frog, collected him at this little pool where we used to dip our toes. Named him Clyde.”

“Oh, how sweet, my dear! ‘Clyde’, imagine!”

“I kept him for a few weeks, in a little jar I’d hidden in the garden. He grew much more and much faster than I thought he would, and soon my little creature was quite sizeable.”

“You didn’t keep the poor dear in the jar, did you?”

“No, angel, of course not. Now, I had a sister. A rather cruel one, if I’m being honest--”

“What was her name?”

“Hester. Dreadful. So one day, Hester had done something or other to cross me--as a child I was not to be trifled with, mind you--so as we were leaving for church, I snuck wee Clyde in the pocket of my coat. We were always late, and that day we were squeezed into the last two pews. My father, bless him, had long since fallen asleep next to me and my mother and dear sister were sat in the next pew up. Just as the Father starts his sermon, I scooped Clyde from my pocket and draped him onto Hester’s head.”

“ _Crowley!_ ” Zira was giggling uncontrollably, “oh good gracious that’s _brilliant._ What did she do? Did she realize?”

“I’m surprised a well-bred young lady such as yourself approves, angel,” Antonia said with a smirk. 

“Oh my dear, I’m not a  _ saint.  _ Please continue, I must know the conclusion.”

“After a moment, she must have felt old Clyde give a twitch of the hand--fin? Do frogs have hands? Anyway, she reached up and felt a lovely slimy blob. And she  _ screamed _ bloody murder. I thought poor Father MacDonald might have a coronary then and there!” 

Now was Zira’s turn to attempt to stifle overwhelming laughter. Antonia nigh cackled along with her at the memory. 

After a few deep breaths, Zira brought herself down to Earth enough to say, “I’m sorry your sister was cruel to you, my dear.” A playful poke in the ribs, “shall I go take my revenge on her? That’s what angels do, you know.”

“I can imagine plenty of people have cowered in fear before you, o avenging angel, but I don’t think Hester would.”

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“ _ Never. _ ”

“I can be quite formidable when I choose to be.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt, darling.”

The particular awkward guilt that comes with knowing second-hand personal information about one’s conversation partner--especially one’s  _ naked  _ conversation partner--took residence in Zira’s stomach. Best try to learn first-hand. 

“Do you...do you miss them? Do you see them?”

“No, I don’t see them.”

Zira waited, gently running her hand up and down Antonia’s arm. 

Her voice grew quieter. “I suppose I do miss them. My parents. Hester less so. Although...in a peculiar way...her, too.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mentioned that she was rather cruel. In point of fact she was  _ very  _ cruel. And…”

“Yes?” Zira asked gently. 

Antonia had paused, lips downturned, gathering her thoughts. 

Whispering now, Zira said, “you don’t have to tell me, dearest one. It’s alright.”

“It’s just, she found out. About...me. About, well,  _ this.  _ When I was round about...13? And she told...well, everyone. And Portree is rather a small town. After that, things were...quite unbearable for me there. So I had little choice but to leave.” 

Zira lay in shocked silence. Her hand had stilled on Antonia’s arm, wrapping around it protectively. “Oh, my dear. I’m so...so terribly sorry. I can’t...imagine that kind of pain.”

“Yes, I was surprised by its intensity myself.”

Zira was  _ battling  _ not to cry. It was a near thing. The thought that Gabriel might--no. Zira had years of practice stopping her emotions and inappropriate thoughts in their tracks, and she refused to think about Gabriel betraying her. And for now, that refusal was enough. 

She could think of nothing to do but wrap her arms more tightly around her companion and press soft kisses to her cheeks. She wished so desperately that they were safe now, that she could tell this darling person that no harm would come to her ever again, because she didn’t deserve it, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t true. 

She resolved to think about it tomorrow. 


	4. Chapter 4

On the last night of Zira’s stay at Auburn House, she and Bee were both scheduled to go to a ball of rather grand proportions. Zira, Ana, Bee, Antonia, and both Zira and Bee’s mothers were clustered in Bee’s bedroom getting ready. 

“Ana, dear, would you tighten Zira’s corset a bit?” Frances asked with a frown.   
Antonia was fortunate that her sharp look went unnoticed by the Countess, who was sorting through a jewelry box. 

Ana grimaced at Zira. “Yes, m’lady. Breathe out, Lady Zira, please.” 

She did. Luckily, Ana could mostly pantomime the tightening of the stays - Zira’s lungs were being painfully constricted as it was. 

“You were a great success at the Duke of Devonshire’s ball on Thursday, Zira. You seemed to catch his son’s eye, if I recall correctly.”

Zira made brief eye contact with Antonia in the mirror before looking down with a dark blush. “Did I?”

“He would make a good match for you.”

This time, Zira did not look up to see the badly patched brokenness on Antonia’s face. Her hands started to shake, and she worried at her ring. “Quite.”

“He has land, an excellent title, a kind manner. Everything one hopes for, I should think.”

“As you say,” Zira replied, eyes still trained on the lace doily adorning the dressing table. 

“You are to dance at least a few with him, if he asks. Perhaps the waltz to start, or the Minuet.” 

Zira nodded vaguely. The Duke’s son, Percival, was pleasant enough, but one of the most boring conversationalists Zira had ever met. A lifetime of daily conversations about horses, hunting, and racing awaited his future wife. Zira shuddered at the prospect. She pictured herself, old and utterly snuffed out, listening to an aging Percival Cavendish recount hunting and racing tales from his glory days. She was immersed in this bleak daydream when she was startled by her mother’s sharp voice. 

“Zira! Goodness, the places you drift off to. Come along dear, we must be off. Fashionably late is one thing, but, you know.”

As she was hurried from the room by her mother, Zira turned and caught a fleeting glimpse of Antonia’s eyes. They were wide and anxious as she grimaced painfully. 

_ Courtyard? At 1?  _ She mouthed. 

Zira nodded, and then was ushered away. 

* * *

At the ball, Zira and Bee stood as close to the corner as was socially acceptable, sipping (properly drinking, that is) champagne. They were mostly silent, the tension of the scene before their departure still weighed on both of them. 

After a while, Gabriel arrived with Zira’s father, and they were making their rounds. 

“Do you know, Bee, I don’t think I can do it.”

“Hmm? Do what, my girl?”

“Decide. Between...who I am and what I want and...this. I wish I didn’t have to.”

“You know I know how you feel, my love.”

Zira turned to her friend. “Yes, I do. Come to that--why doesn’t Antonia know?” 

“About what?”

“Oh come now,  _ about what,  _ they say.  _ You.  _ Why doesn’t she know about who  _ you  _ really are? Is she untrustworthy in some way?”

“No, no, not at all. It’s just I find it quite...difficult to explain.”

“I daresay she’d understand. Certainly, she’d be kind about it.”

“She usually is. And she’s excellent at keeping secrets.” 

Zira laughed lightly. “She is.”

Bee nodded. “Perhaps it’s time.”

“I only say so because...being together in a room with you and her...well, I’d never felt so warm. Or...safe. Just existing.”

“And getting properly sozzled.”

Zira interpreted the humor--correctly--as a cue to move the conversation along. “It’s up to you of course, my dear. But speaking of this I...well, I’ve been thinking of having a conversation with--”

“Ah, Fell!” interrupted Bee, making eye contact with the man from a few yards away and laying their hand on Zira’s arm. 

“Lovely to see you two,” he said with a broad smile and bow. 

Zira and Bee curtsied in turn. 

“Who is our dearest mama pushing on you tonight, dear brother?”

“That remains to be seen, but surely someone,” he said with a grimace. 

“Well you must spare Bee--and yourself--some suffering by giving the poor dear a dance.”

Bee’s hand tightened on their friend’s arm as Gabriel smiled. “Certainly--the polonaise perhaps?” 

“Ideal...although I never quite know where to walk next.”

“We can figure it out between the two of us, I should think.”

Zira caught sight of her mother speaking with young Percy Cavendish across the room. She looked away, but not quickly enough. Her mother gave her a damning little wave, and Mr. Cavendish turned to acknowledge her. Frances raised her eyebrows pointedly at Zira. 

“Enjoy, you too, I suppose I’m....wanted over there.”

Gabriel turned to see where she was headed. “Ah. Cavendish. Good luck--perhaps if you bring up something interesting, he’ll follow along?”

“Perhaps.”

That is not what happened. After a while, the boredom was absolutely all-consuming, and Zira, while she was an expert at keeping a stiff upper lip, was beginning to wilt. She had gradually phased from half-listening...to one-quarter listening...to daydreaming about Antonia’s long legs. 

“You must be tired, my lady--is your first Season wearing you out a bit?”

“Oh! Goodness. Yes. I’m afraid I was miles away.”

“Quite alright,” he said with a genuine smile, “I know how many young gentlemen you must have been asked to talk to.”

Zira smiled slightly at this apparently authentic compassion. “Yes, I’m afraid I have.”

“Then perhaps we should resume another time? Perhaps Thursday next, I could call on you?”

“Oh...oh. Er. Yes, that is, I think so, yes. I shall need to check with my mother.”

“Of course.” He bowed and smiled, and Zira curtsied before hurrying back over to the corner where she and Bee had been standing, but her friend and brother were both absent now. She scooped up another glass of champagne on the way. As she drank it, she scanned the room for them, and spotted them engrossed in a conversation. Both were smiling, and Bee occasionally laid their hand on Gabriel’s arm. The sight brought a grin to Zira’s face, and she desperately wished she were home, with Antonia. No...she wished Antonia were here--draped in black finery and filling her dance card. For a moment, this glimmering thought broadened Zira’s smile, but she was brought back to reality by the touch of a hand on her wrist. 

“Zira? Are you quite alright?” While she’d been daydreaming, Bee and Gabriel had made their way back to her.

“I think I’d like to go home, actually. I’m afraid I nearly fell asleep standing up during that conversation.”

“Ha! I certainly understand that.”

“Perhaps I could borrow the carriage and they could come back to collect you? You should stay and dance--” -- _ with each other.  _

“Quite. Shall we walk you out?”

Bee’s eye’s twinkled as Zira raised her eyebrows at them. 

* * *

It was a bit later than 1 am, the time they had planned to meet, when Zira snuck into the courtyard. Antonia was leaning into a corner of the wall, eyes fixed upward. 

Zira couldn’t really  _ run  _ in this attire, but she did  _ hasten _ and wrap her arms tightly around the taller woman. 

“Oh, hello, angel.” Zira could hear the smile in her voice as she embraced her tightly. 

“My dear you are  _ so  _ lovely. I  _ missed  _ you.”

Antonia pressed a kiss to Zira’s head and laughed lightly. “It’s only been a few hours, darling. But I suppose I missed you too.”

Zira smiled up at her and felt the beautiful gravitational tilt that characterized eye contact with Antonia. “All I could think when I was there was how badly I wished I could be dancing with you.”

Antonia leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. “We can dance now, if you like.”

“Oh! Well yes. I believe I can pencil you in.”

Antonia laughed and walked Zira by the hand into the cobbled center of the yard. 

“Do you know any songs, angel?”

“I’ve a dreadful singing voice, I’m afraid.”

“Hmmm, alright. I’ll give it a shot then.” With that, she slipped her right hand around Zira’s waist and raised her left. Zira smiled, slightly giddy, and pressed closer than was really necessary. 

“A waltz, is it?”

“What else, angel?” Then, she started singing.

_   
_

_ Sometimes when I feel bad  _

_ and things look blue _

_ I wish a pal I had... say one like you. _

_ Someone within my heart to build her throne _

_ Someone who'd never part, to call my own _

_ If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy  _

_ Nothing else would matter _

_ in the world today _

_ We could go on loving in the same old way _

_ A garden of Eden just made for two: _

_ With nothing to mar our joy _

_ I would say such wonderful things to you _

_ There would be such wonderful things to do _

_ If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy _

Neither of them were particularly good dancers, and Antonia would have been the first to admit that singing  _ while  _ leading a distractingly beautiful woman through a waltz was a bit of a stretch. But in this case, tripping over one’s feet meant leaning more into a beautiful partner, and forgetting the words meant a shared fit of giggles. 

It was perfect. 

By the last chorus, Zira was singing with her. When they finished, Zira leaned back just enough to bring her hands up to her partner’s face, framing her beautiful smile. 

“Wonderful, my dear.”

“I’d love to take you to a ball, angel.”

Zira’s smile flickered. The ache she felt earlier in the night twinged. “I should like that very much. You could wear your tails.” She had aimed for a playful tone, but had missed and landed on longing. 

“Oh, certainly, nothing less.”

“God, you’d be dazzling. I’d have to fight everyone else off.”

“Oh, no, angel, I would do that for you.”

Zira smiled softly, feeling giddy with luck and heartbroken at the same time. Dancing in public with Antonia, seeing her light up a room full of people...her chest started to feel tight at the thought that that was not her fate. Or Antonia’s. She would marry some man who, even if he was kind and perfect in every way, would  _ never  _ be what Antonia was to her. 

“You look sad, my dove.” 

Zira nodded with tight lips. “Rather.” 

Antonia searched her eyes, brow furrowed. Lifting up onto her tiptoes, Zira wrapped her arms around Antonia’s neck and nuzzled into the soft skin along her collarbones. 

After a few moments, Zira shivered. “Time to go inside, perhaps? May I take you upstairs, angel?”

“In a moment.” 

Then, with very little warning, the door to the courtyard burst open. Panic flooded Zira’s body and she instantly disentangled from Antonia, looking towards it. 

She exhaled shakily. “Oh, Bee, darling, it’s you.”

“Sorry, girls, didn’t mean to startle you.  _ But.  _ I’ve had an invitation. Or rather,  _ we  _ have.”

“We?” 

“Yes, Zira, we,” Bee was visibly enthused, bouncing slightly as they walked over to meet the two women. “What do you know of the Bloomsbury set?”

“Oh, the bohemians? I’m not sure I know much of anything. They’ve written a thing or two.”

Antonia was wide-eyed. “You received an invitation...from the Bloomsburys? How?”

Zira looked between them anxiously. “What is it, you two?”

“They aren’t just  _ bohemians _ , Zira. They’re artists. They’re free-thinking and blossoming and I  _ hear  _ that they know how to throw a party.” 

“F-free thinking?” 

“The woman who invited us said that I should come in a suit if I wished.”

Zira’s eyebrows raised and her face split into a grin.

“When is this invitation for?” 

“Tomorrow night. You two, me, and Ana, if you like, Zira.” 

“What should I wear? I haven’t got any clothes for a party!”

“I’ve already thought of that. Zira, you must send for Ana in the morning. Do you think she’d be game?”

“Definitely.”

“Excellent...and perhaps, on her way over, she could bring out something old of Gabriel’s. He’s been Antonia’s height since he was 16 years old, bless him.”

“And how will we give mama and the others the slip?”

At the same time, Bee and Antonia said, “leave it to me.”

* * *

About 30 minutes into the ball that Zira and Bee were attending the following night, Bee gave an expert performance at being just ill enough to need to go home, but not so ill as to make a fuss for all to see. The two of them slunk back into Auburn house through the back servant’s door. 

Antonia and Ana were waiting for them in the kitchen. The only light came from the moon filtering through the windows on one wall and a flickering gas lamp. Antonia was leaning on the butcher block island, one hand in her pocket. She was wearing one of Gabriel’s retired white-tie suits. Her hair was partially coiffed on top of her head in order to show off a jeweled headband that draped across her forehead--presumably a loan from Bee. It was studded with black diamonds. She (and Ana too, for that matter) were both sporting the slightest smudge of kohl around their eyes. 

Zira hid her melodramatic nature whenever possible, but taking in this absolutely scrumptious sight, she audibly gasped and froze in her tracks. Her stomach felt like it had suddenly turned inside out. 

“Oh  _ my _ . Oh. You--that is, um, you--I can hardly--”

Throughout Zira’s struggle, Antonia’s smirk had been widening. “Yeah, yeah, you too, angel.”

“Come now, Bee,” said Ana, “I’ve brought one for you, too.”

The two hurried off to Antonia’s room to get ready. As soon as they were out of view, Zira practically flew across the kitchen, pressed Antonia against the island, and kissed her everywhere she could reach. 

“I have  _ never seen  _ such an exquisite creature as you, you’re an absolute devil for looking this handsome.”

“I can’t help it, you mustn’t hold it against me,” she replied playfully, leaning down for more kisses. 

It sapped every inch of Zira’s willpower not to strip her of that immaculate suit right there in the kitchen. She stepped back, holding her partner’s hands in hers. “Absolutely sinful. Incredible.”

She gave a little bow. “Antony Crowley, at your service.”

Zira’s knees nearly gave out, but she managed a small curtsy. “Crowley.”

Bee and Ana tiptoed back into the kitchen. 

“Oh Bee, my dear fellow,  _ look at you. _ ”

Bee’s hair was held away from their face in a tidy bun, just loose enough to not be too severe. They wore a beautiful dress suit and a pair of oxfords. They were practically glowing. 

In reply, they blushed and gave an enormous smile. “It fits quite well, I daresay.”

“That it does, my dear.” 

The chilliness of the ride to the Bloomsbury house was a perfect excuse for Zira to press close against her partner. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Bee exclaimed, reaching under the seat. They extracted a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew. “Now I know certain among us have never drunk from a bottle before, but you’ll have to learn fast, Zira, my girl.”

They’d finished about half the bottle by the time they arrived, and attempted to keep their composure as they were let in. 

Bloomsbury house, from the outside, looked like a relatively average townhouse in gray brick. Zira had been in few such houses--ones that were made for people who only lived in London.  _ Inside _ , however. Well. 

It was  _ vibrant.  _ Flooded with the sounds of eager human voices, flickering light, snatches of music. People were dancing in ways that Zira had never seen. They were just sort of  _ moving _ , like languid, beautiful swimmers. A man--the owner of the house?--extricated himself from the group in the parlor. 

“Auburn, how lovely to see you, old chap! Looking dashing.” 

“Oh thank you, Grant. May I present Zira, Crowley, and Ana.” 

Zira was entranced, looking around the room with wide, insatiable eyes. Anton--Crowley grasped her hand and was practically vibrating with excitement. 

“Angel, look” she whispered, subtly inclining her head. In the next room, two men were dancing together. Just as Zira glanced over, one planted a kiss squarely on the lips of the other. 

No one in the room even blinked. It was absolutely marvelous. 

“Now, let me show you around, good people.” 

In one room, a man was reading poetry aloud to a drunk and spellbound audience. In another, a willowy sort of woman in a sleeveless dress improvised on the piano as everyone danced. Two women leaned close to each other on a staircase, whispering in each other’s ears. 

Antonia leaned down to brush her lips against Zira’s ear and said, “come and dance with me, angel.”

Zira was giddy and could only nod and allow herself to be led to the room with the piano. 

“I don’t know how to dance like this!”

“Me neither!” Crowley replied, drawing Zira close. They stepped in odd circles, undulating in orbit. The music grew faster, into a sort of two-step, and their flowing movements followed along. Zira noticed a man wearing a dress, more women in suits, people sketching in notebooks, and people who were simply observing, taking notes on small leaves of paper. 

It was thrilling, and a bit too much for Zira, but while she couldn’t quite envision herself living with 6 on again, off again roommates, that evening somehow altered her. The craving she had, the hunger for a life she actually desired, had been a seed, but its roots were spreading. If these people could have  _ this _ , surely she could have a woman at her side and a quiet, separate life? Why not? 

In her drunkenness and dizziness, the insidious thoughts-- _ something awful will happen if I break the rules, no one will ever forgive me, I don’t deserve it _ \--couldn’t seem to gain footing. There was just movement, and music, and Antonia, laughing as her hair gradually tumbled from its arrangement. 

Eventually, Antonia and Zira found themselves seated around a low table while Bee and Ana lounged opposite them. 

“Is this not the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen?” Bee’s voice was dreamlike and slightly blurry as Zira strained to focus through the pleasant buzz of the alcohol and the din of the room. 

Zira smiled in a sort of dopey way and leaned her head on Antonia’s shoulder. It was addictive, the feeling of showing her affection while other people could see. As soon as she felt the freedom of it, she knew that nothing else would really do. 

When the party started to thin, the four of them made their way to the front door, where they’d asked Bee’s chauffeur to meet them at half past 1. When they were seated in the car, Zira realized that she hadn’t let go of Antonia’s hand for what felt like hours. She turned from gazing out the window at the blurred London nightscape to see that Bee and Ana were asleep, and Antonia was staring at her. She wasn’t quite smiling, but her eyes were dancing with some mix of joy and devotion and longing. 

“You’re leaving soon. Back to the country.”

“Not  _ too  _ soon. A few weeks.”

“May I write to you, angel?” 

Zira brought their clasped hands up to her lips and pressed a kiss to each of Antonia’s beautiful fingers. 

“I’m afraid I shall be very cross if you don’t.”

* * *

Later, when they were lying in Zira’s bed, Antonia traced her fingers up and down her partner’s arm. 

“Will you write back?”

“Hmmmm?”

“If I write to you. Will you write back?”

Zira shifted so that they were face to face. “Of course I will.”

Antonia’s brow creased with worry. “What if your family finds out?”

Fighting to keep her voice calm, Zira said, “Why should they?”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s hard to keep secrets. From people.”

“Darling. Can I tell you something quite personal?”

Antonia laughed a little and raked her gaze up and down Zira’s naked form. “I should think so.”

“You see I’m rather...I’ve always been rather, um,  _ beside myself.  _ In general. It’s as if I’m standing in one place, but my body is standing a foot to the left. For as long as I can remember. And when I’m reading or immersed in a play or something I feel much more snapped together, like I’ve put on just the right pair of glasses. I’ve never really felt that way with another person before. I love Gabriel, and I love my parents--even my darling mama--” she rolled her eyes “and I’ve had a friend or two over the years, but this is...different. It’s like I’ve been walking for years on end and I’ve found a place to sit. I’m not sure if I’m making sense.”

“Yes, you are,” whispered Antonia, barely audible. 

“What I mean is that I shan’t forget about you, my dear. I know that it will make my life harder, but I don’t have a choice...asking me to leave you--us-- _ this _ \--now would be like...like...asking the flowers to bloom in the winter instead. Or the birds to go south in the summer.” Toward the end of her speech, Zira’s voice started to waver, fissures splitting through it and letting through rays of bright light. 

She found she was crying. She hadn’t cried in front of another person since she was a child. 

Antonia leaned down and kissed her gently once, twice, three times. They were both rather sniffly now, their kisses sticky and rather inelegant. Zira laid her hand on Antonia’s cheek and stroked under her eye with her thumb. 

“The kitchen maid will be up soon, angel, I should go.” 

“I shall see you soon, my dear. Between the two of us and Bee and Ana, my staying back at Arcadie house won’t be too cumbersome, I promise.”

Antonia kissed her partner’s hand as she slid from the bed. She dressed quickly, and a bit haphazardly, for the walk back down to her room. 

“A bientôt, mon ange.”

Zira blew her a kiss. 

“Flirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bloomsbury group was real! I've tweaked it a bit, but Bloomsbury house was essentially an artist's collective where people--including Virginia Woolf & E.M. Forster--attended salons and parties. Super gay salons and parties.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Valentine's Day, I offer you a bunch of overly sentimental sap. Just gals being pals.

They met in a few tucked-away spots--overlapping as if by coincidence at the British Museum, Kew Gardens, the Crystal Palace, and certain less-trafficked parks. 

Bee had gotten word (through the Bloomsburys) that a small, out-of-the-way gallery was hosting a Van Gogh exhibit for the season. Zira and Antonia were the only two there on a rainy afternoon in early August. Antonia had borrowed another suit for the occasion, and she looked positively  _ distracting _ . 

The artworks, of course, were wonderful--Van Gogh was something of a new presence on the popular London scene, and Zira found his works quite enchanting. She’d lingered at a particularly brilliant piece, and (with a small, discreet kiss), Antonia had moved to the next room. When Zira stepped into the open doorway, Antonia was standing, hip cocked to the side, one hand in the pocket of her trousers. Her height and boxy figure made the suit and hat a relatively believable disguise, but now a tendril of her brilliant red hair had escaped the bun she wore under the hat. She was admiring a rich, dark painting of graceful red poppies wreathed by loose brushes of royal blue. 

Zira had never been particularly  _ sneaky _ , and she’d never really tried to be. But she hovered in the door frame as quietly as she could, a broad smile blooming on her face at the sight. Antonia turned and matched her smile, and her face was haloed by the rich reds and blues of the painting. Her loosened hair caught the warm light of the sconce that illuminated the painting. 

“It’s simply unfair how handsome you are, my dear,” Zira playfully scolded as she went to meet her. 

“I could say the same,” Antonia whispered. (In her male disguise, she was  _ officially  _ affected by aphasia and unable to speak...but only when other people were in earshot). 

“I haven’t seen anything quite like these pieces,” Zira murmured, taking a step closer, “they look...saturated. Like landscapes in the rain.” 

“They do. Do you see all the blue just here, on the vase?” 

To point it out, Antonia had taken a step closer, too, and extended her right arm so that it wrapped slightly around her companion as she pointed. 

“As if reflecting the blue light behind it,” Zira said, turning her head to the left to watch Antonia study the painting. 

“Mmm. Like water,” she replied, turning towards Zira. The shorter woman could feel Antonia’s breath ghosting across her cheek. 

After a quick glance around, Antonia pressed a soft kiss to Zira’s lips. 

“I’ve found one that reminds me of you,” Zira whispered, eyes still closed. 

“Oh? Can I see?”

Zira led her into the other room, pressing far closer to her than was strictly necessary, and stopped them in front of a painting of a river at night. Little bursts of stars bloomed in the inky sky and wavered in the water below. 

Gesturing to the stars, Zira asked, “see any of your favorites?” 

“One or two,” she said with a smile. Lightly nudging Zira, she continued: “one particular favorite in fact. Very pale...sort of short, but not too. Bit of a bastard, perfectly so, really.”

Zira giggled and leaned into Antonia’s side. “Oh really dear, you’re such a  _ sap _ .”

“Dreadfully so, I’m afraid. Criminally sentimental.”

“ _ Criminally. _ ”

“We make quite the pair, though, don’t we? A sentimental fiend and a soft little angel.” 

Zira pouted, “nonsense, I’m absolutely fearsome.” 

With a mock posh accent, Antonia said “ _ absolutely.” _

When they were walking home, pressed together under an umbrella, Zira nudged her companion’s shoulder with her head. “Do you really think I’m so soft?”

Something in her tone set off little bells in Antonia’s head. She stopped when they were under a small awning. “Yes,” she said, holding Zira’s cheek with one hand. “It’s one of the things I lo-like about you.” 

It was difficult to say whose blush was deeper. Antonia’s eyes were as wide as golden dinner plates. 

“What was that?” Zira whispered. 

“I said it’s...erm, I said it’s one of the thingsIloveaboutyou.”

Zira’s mouth hung open, light dancing in her eyes. “You...you love me?”

At this, Antonia gave a whole-body eye roll. “Of course I do, angel, don’t be an idiot.”

Feigning affront, Zira leaned back and pressed her hand to her chest. “An idiot? I say.”

Zira was still blushing furiously, and found she was also shaking a bit and compulsively avoiding Antonia’s eye contact. She could feel herself freezing, even though she was dazzled, and joyful, and  _ loved.  _ Before she could go completely rigid with the nerves, she said to Antonia’s shoulder, “I love you too, my dear.”

Gently, Antonia slid the hand that cupped Zira’s cheek under her chin and lifted her face up. Reflexively, Zira closed her eyes. She could feel an unpleasant, prickly burning in the pit of her stomach. Shyness. The particular forceful shyness of someone who’d grown up in closer relation to books than other people. 

“Angel,” Antonia whispered, “open your eyes, please. Please.” 

With colossal effort, Zira did, finding that Antonia’s beautiful golden gaze seemed to fill her entire field of vision. Antonia gave one of her most disarming smiles. “It’s alright, you know, angel.”

Zira gave a small nod, thrilled and  _ warm _ and nearly paralyzed with nerves. No one was around, so she pressed into Antonia’s arms, nuzzling her cheek into her shoulder. 

“It’s certainly one of the things I’m most sure of,” Zira said. 

Antonia brought her hand up to rest on Zira’s head. She ran her fingers over her hair and held her, willing all of her love to flow through her gentle embrace. 

“Walk you home?” 

“I’d like to stay here forever, actually.”

Antonia’s smile was so genuine that it washed over her like a warm wave. “But you’d catch a cold, and I’d never forgive myself.”

“Well. We can’t have that.”

When they reached Auburn house, they slid behind a wide, graceful tree and kissed. Once, twice, three times. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night?” asked Zira. 

“Yes, of course.” 

Zira rose to her toes and kissed her companion on the cheek. 

“‘Til then, darling.”

She walked toward the front door, and Antonia went around toward the back. 

* * *

The next day passed as the others had--Frances anxiously chaperoning Zira on social calls and fretting over her appearance. The city (and Zira’s stubborn ambivalence toward every single eligible gentleman available) had amplified Frances nervous personality. She had grown snappy, and tense, and defensive. 

As the Fells sat down to dinner, Zira’s mind was far away--she lingered under an awning in the West End: the patter of rain, Antonia’s impossible eyes. She was jolted from her daydream when Gabriel gently laid a hand on her arm. She realized that her mother had been repeating her name. 

“Ah, yes, mama? Terribly sorry. Miles away.”

“Yes,” she said, her mouth a flat line, “I could see that. What I was going to say is that since neither you nor Gabriel seem intent on properly  _ utilizing  _ the Season, and my teeth are on edge from weeks in town, I was wondering if we might leave in a week or so. Rather than at the end of the month.”

Zira’s head shot up. “No! That is I, er, I have been rather enjoying myself.”

“Have you?” asked Gabriel with genuine confusion. “You’ve seemed rather distant.”

“Gabriel, she’s always  _ distant, _ ” scoffed Frances, edging on the sort of impropriety that would get the footmen talking after dinner. Zira fixed her gaze on her plate. 

“Well I suppose if that’s--”

“And papa and Gabriel will be leaving in a few days anyway, to start the shoot.”

“Quite right,” said Zira. She could feel the blood draining from her face. It seemed to pool in her hands and feet. She wrung the napkin in her lap. “Well I suppose if that’s...er. If that’s...what you’d like to do, mama.” She winced as she said it. 

“It is.” 

“Right, well, that settles it,” Neil declared, attempting to diffuse the tension clouding the air. “It’ll be lovely to have the two of you home for the grouse.”

“Quite right,” Zira repeated, her napkin now a tight ball in her right fist. 

Some hours later, in the drawing room, Gabriel caught her eye and raised his eyebrows meaningfully and flicked his gaze toward their mother. Zira nodded. 

“I wonder if I might walk you up, Zira? You are looking rather tired.”

“Yes, thank you, my dear.” 

Gabriel, Zira, and their father stood. As Zira and Gabriel left, arm in arm, Neil resumed his seat next to Frances. 

The walk up to Zira’s room was not a long one, so they walked as slowly as possible and spoke in low, discreet whispers. 

“What was that about, Zira? What  _ has  _ been going on with you?”

“You heard what mother said, I’m always a bit distant.”

“No, no. Don’t do that, please.” They had reached the second floor landing, and Gabriel paused and turned to face his sister. 

Her eyes were glued to the floor and she twisted the bracelet she wore over her left glove. “I--it’s...it’s….” 

“Zira. You know that I want you to be happy.  _ So badly. _ ”

Her gaze lifted to meet her older brother’s. She gave a tiny nod.

“You can  _ honestly  _ trust me. I’m not going to...I’m not going to be angry. Or whatever it is you’re afraid of. Is it simply that you’re melancholy?”

“No! No. Quite the opposite, in fact,” Zira said, smiling slightly. Simultaneously, though, her vision blurred with the threat of tears. 

“You  _ know  _ that I can’t solve riddles, little one, I’m not smart enough to figure out what’s going on unless you tell me,” he said with a quiet laugh. “ _ You’re  _ the one who can get the measure of people.”

“ _ Dammit _ , Gabriel, why do you have to be so... _ good  _ all the time?”

“I suppose it’s just the way God made me,” he said, putting on an overly pious air and clasping his hands in front of his chest. 

Zira rolled her eyes and a tear escaped. Gabriel’s face seemed to crack at the sight. Tugging her arm lightly, he pulled her into the nearest guest room. There was no fire lit, and it was almost completely dark in the room, but for the candles that they had each lit to carry up with them. Zira felt like she might be sick, or lose control of her legs and sit down on the floor, so she made her way to the chair beside the cold fireplace. Gabriel sat opposite her. 

There are moments, moments that Zira knew of mostly from books, that split time in two. There is a before, and an after. She felt as if she were teetering on the shore of such a moment, but it seemed to stretch on either side of her for dizzying miles. Because...when had this moment started? In the garden at Arcadie Castle when she was 12? The first time she’d cried alone over the fact of marriage to a man? When she first saw Antonia? 

It felt, to her, like this moment was less a point than a line. A line that she had already crossed. 

“You see I’ve. Rather, er. I’ve rather...fallen for someone.” The most expert sailor wouldn’t be able to untie the knot that was her hands in her lap. Tears were slowly streaming down her face, and her brother reached over with a handkerchief. 

Gabriel sat back, raising his eyebrows, “that is  _ not  _ what I thought you were going to say. I have to admit I’m...somewhat relieved.”

“Why? What did you think I would say?”  _ Don’t stall, don’t stall, just do it.  _

“I was worried that you had suffered some violence or...violation or other.”

“No, no, nothing like that. But it is, er. Rather complicated, I’m afraid.” Her hands were shaking violently, and she clasped them together around the now-wet handkerchief. 

“Mother wouldn’t approve, I take it?”

Zira laughed at the absolute ridiculousness of that understatement. “No, I’m afraid not.”

Gabriel’s voice grew quieter. “Why not?”

“Oh it’s. It’s. I’ve…”  _ fuck it.  _ “It’s a woman, Gabriel. I’ve only gone and fallen for a woman instead of a man.”

Gabriel’s face split into a grin, “really?”

“You  _ cannot  _ tell  _ absolutely anyone _ .”

“Zira. Honestly. Do you really think I would do that?”

“I’ve rather lost track of what I do and don’t know.”

“Well, sister, I’ll tell you one thing  _ I’ve  _ known,” he said with a mischievous smile. 

“Oh, come off it, you--”

“My darling girl, I’ve suspected you were of the _ ‘Oscar Wilde sort’  _ for quite some time.”

“Well you could have told me!” she laughed wetly. 

His smile grew gentle, and achingly kind. “Thank you for telling me now. I will never tell a soul.” 

“Swear?”

“I swear.” 

He stood, and Zira stood with him. As soon as she was up, Gabriel wrapped her in a tight embrace. She found she was still crying. Rather aggressively, in fact. 

“I will protect you, Zira. Always.” 

“Thank you,” she replied, with an unladylike sniff. 

“Now. This conversation has been completely exhausting, so if you’ll excuse me.” 

Zira laughed. “Certainly.” 

As they went separate directions toward their rooms, Zira stage-whispered “Gabriel.” He turned. “I...thank you.  _ Thank you. _ ” 

He smiled. “Of course, little one.” 

* * *

The night before Zira and her mother were scheduled to leave found the four of them--Zira, Antonia, Bee, and Ana--tucked away in Zira’s room with a couple of bottles of prosecco. 

Dusting off her posh accent once again, Antonia poured champagne into Zira’s glass and said “you were quite a success this Season, I say, well done.”

Lifting their finger to point in Zira and Antonia’s general direction, Bee said, “oi. Save the dirty talk til the other two of us have gone to bed.”

Ana made a sound something like “pffffffff” and set to giggling into her champagne glass. 

“Oh, do shut up, Bee. Why don’t you recite us a poem?” asked Zira as she leaned heavily into her friend’s shoulder. 

“Hmmm....a poem, says the guest of honor. Alright, let’s see.” They plucked a piece of black lint from the carpet at their feet and held it aloft, setting their glass on the ground. 

“ _ Mark but this flea, and mark in this _ , (they wiggled the lint back and forth)

_ How little that which thou deniest me is _ ;

_ It sucked me first, and now sucks thee _ , (a salacious wink and puckering of the lips)

_ And in this flea our two bloods mingled be; _

_ Thou know’st that this cannot be said _

_ A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead, _

_ Yet this enjoys before it woo, _

_ And pampered swells with one blood made of two, _

_ And this, alas, is more than we would do… _ ”

Zira clapped, “lovely, Mr. Donne, a compelling argument for premarital  _ congress. _ ”

“Uuuuuuughhh  _ why  _ would you call it that?!”

With a completely grave expression, she replied, “to bother you. Solely.”

This sent all four of them into little fits of laughter. When they came back down, Bee looked from Antonia, to Zira, and back again. They had both gone rather sappy, there was no other word for their eye contact than  _ gazing adoringly  _ at each other. 

“Ana, I think we should perhaps leave the two little lovebirds to finish this second bottle on their own.”

“Ah, yes, perhaps,” said Ana, making a clumsy attempt to stand. 

“I shall see you in the morning, Bee, before we go. A walk? 8:30?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Zira, my girl.”

Once the other two had gone, Zira wordlessly laid next to Antonia on the chaise beside the fire. She rested her head on her chest, wrapping an arm around her waist. Antonia pressed a kiss to her hair and idly ran her fingers through it. 

“I spoke with Gabriel.” 

Antonia’s hand stilled for a moment in her hair. “What happened?”

“He had already known. He was very sweet. Protective and kind.”

Her companion let out a deep exhale. “Oh, my love, I’m so happy to hear it. So very relieved.” 

Zira wiggled up the chaise until they were face to face. She ran her fingers down Antonia’s jaw. “It’s what you deserved. From your family, I mean. They should have been kind to you. Everyone should be kind to you.” She paused to brush her finger over Antonia’s lips. “That is, unless you’ve brought out your foul fiend side.”

“And how should they treat me then?” Antonia asked, her voice slightly wet from Zira’s nearly unbearable sweetness. 

“With a different type of kindness,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Antonia laughed and wrapped her partner more tightly in her embrace. “Thank you, angel.”

“I love you,” Zira said simply, blushing as she always did and pressing closer. She vaguely felt the post of her earring digging into the tender skin behind her ear, but she ignored it.

“I love  _ you,  _ angel.” 

“I...I shall miss you. Terribly.” 

“I know, love, me too. But we can write. And I imagine the Auburns visit from time to time?”

“Occasionally, yes. Perhaps they can be made to, anyway. My parents always like to host house parties during the hunt.” 

“That was up there with the most snobbish things you’ve ever said,” Antonia replied with a smirk. 

Zira gently swatted her arm, “I can’t help it!” 

“It suits you.” 

“ _ You _ suit me.” 

And really, what choice did Antonia have, in reply to that, but to lean in and press their smiles together in a warm kiss. 

“Do you remember that conversation we had with some one of the Bloomsburys a few weeks ago?” 

As she looked up at Antonia, her earring stung her again. 

“Mmmm? Probably. They always have something to say.”

“Too right.” She adjusted slightly, toying with a piece of Antonia’s hair. “But this one, she said something about the human character changing around December 1910, soon after the last king died.”

“Ah yes, I do remember her. Of course I do.”

“I wonder why she said that. What she meant by it.”

“Changing tides, right? She talked about the tides often, too. I’m not sure. I was quite drunk, to be honest.”

Rather suddenly, the earring became almost intolerable, and Zira rose from the chaise in agitation. Antonia pushed herself onto her elbows. 

“What is it, angel?” 

“Nothing, it’s nothing, just my earring was bothering me,” she said with a tight smile, taking the offending things off as she walked toward the dressing table. 

Antonia made no reply, confident that silence would be a better path toward an answer. She simply sat up and turned toward where Zira was standing, fiddling with the earrings on their tray. 

“...well it’s just. I think she meant...the kind of feeling where you’ve done something that you can’t change. Something so decisive that you can’t...wiggle your way out of it and go backwards.”

Antonia nodded, resting her head on her fist. 

“I had this image, when I was talking to Gabriel, that I was about to step over a cliff, as cliche as that sounds. Like it was a moment that would change who I was. But it...didn’t. It didn’t change who I was. Because the step off the cliff...is not...it’s not something one does only once. And the cliff is...isn’t a cliff at all, really. You step off and find you’re simply on different land. You haven’t fallen anywhere.” She was pacing now. “Oh, am I making any sense?”

“Almost. I’m listening.”

“That is, I think she meant that this world, it’s...so  _ real  _ and so  _ everywhere _ that it seems permanent, but it’s not. It’s not just that the tides change. It’s that...the moon sucks all the water away as it sloshes around the globe like too much wine in an upset stomach. It’s...terrifying. But so regular. It happens every day.”

Antonia rose to stand next to her pacing angel and stilled her wringing hands. 

“Angel, what are you referring to? Really?”

It took what felt like years for Zira to make eye contact. “I’m so frightened. And I’m so in love with you and that’s so beautiful and lovely and just... _ frightening. _ ” 

“I know, love. I know.”

“I mean...what are we going to  _ do _ ? There’s no...there’s no  _ place  _ for us! I don’t want to be married to a man and committed to you on the side. I want to be  _ with  _ you. I don’t know how that can work, there’s no...there’s no  _ precedent  _ for it, there are no rules for it, what kind of space is there for that?” Zira’s hands had started to shake. They clenched and unclenched around Antonia’s. 

“Do you remember the conversation you told me about when we first met? The one you had with Bee? When they told you to take this one day at a time?” 

“Yes.”

“We can keep doing that.  _ You  _ can keep doing that. I can help you step over the line however you choose. Every day.”

“That sounds so...taxing, my dear. Why would you want to help a hesitant and confused little person do that?”

“Because I love you. And I think that’s what loving someone means. It’s a feeling, to be sure. One that cannot be controlled or governed, as you and I both know too well. But it is also a choice, after a while. One choice among thousands that we make every day, but one of the most important. To show your love. To be who you actually are. To be...honest. You can tell the people who love you--in the way  _ I  _ want to be loved, at least--by whether or not they choose you. When it matters.”

“Why are you so wise? What lessons did I miss in school?” she sniffled rather pathetically. 

“It’s the Scottish blood,” she said as the ghost of a smirk played at her lips. 

“Of course it is.” 

“I think a lot of sensitive people felt the shift when the last king died. You know, Victoria’s son and all. Something... _ ended _ . But it wasn’t the world, that much is clear. And the world doesn’t end when strange wonders like you are born either, or when you tell your brother about yourself, or when you kiss someone, or...love someone. It’s...ok. It’s all just...it’s just what it is.” 

“I’ve always told myself I would never marry, you know, simply avoid the problem through abstention. But I find that I’m more committed to you all the time.” Zira was whispering by the end of this declaration, and had stepped closer into her companion’s space. “That’s what I mean when I say that I’ll miss you. It’s like....imagining an unchanging tide, to be without you.”

“You won’t be without me, angel. Unless you ask me to go.”

“You’re rather stuck with me, too, I’m afraid.” 

“Now. That’s settled. You must kiss me or I’ll take it all back.”

“ _ Fiend _ ,” Zira said, rising onto her toes to kiss the beautiful being in front of her. 

“Oh, always,” Antonia said, coaxing ZIra’s mouth open as she spoke. Her tongue traced Zira’s lips, then the line of her teeth. 

Zira moaned into the heat of her partner’s mouth, bringing her hands up to wrap around Antonia’s neck. Antonia was wearing a simple black dress, and Zira wound her hands around to fumble with the buttons at her back. 

“Turn around, please, darling.” 

She did. Zira pressed a long line of kisses down her spine, carefully brushing her fingers along that sensitive skin as she undid each button. She pressed gently on Antonia’s hip to signal her to turn around. She left open-mouthed kisses along Antonia’s stomach as she stood up, and pressed light pecks on each of her breasts. 

“God, Zira, come here. I want to kiss you.”

Zira held up a finger with a playful smile. “Just a moment.” 

She flicked her tongue across one of Antonia’s hardening nipples, then licked heavy circles just around it as she teased the other with her fingers. Antonia inhaled sharply and leaned her head back, pressing her chest forward. 

Zira laughed lightly and then did as she’d been asked, rising to lick a line up Antonia’s neck, teasing with a bit of teeth, then sealed their lips together again. 

“What do you want, angel?” her hands were everywhere, rousing gooseflesh all over Zira’s body. She gently walked them back until she was leaning against a wall. Their bodies were pressed together from top to bottom, and electricity tickled up and down the line that connected them. 

In answer, Zira brought her gaze up to meet Antonia’s and then sank to her knees without breaking the eye contact. 

Antonia let her head gently  _ thunk  _ against the wall as her hands fluttered around Zira’s halo of blonde curls. 

Zira always took her time with delicious things, and this was no exception. She kissed all along her lover’s legs, first up, lingering at the crease of her hip, then down the other side. She grazed her teeth gently along the unbearably soft skin of the inner thigh. Antonia twitched and stepped her legs apart. Zira pressed her cheek into the juncture of Antonia’s hip and lightly exhaled through pursed lips, reveling in the gooseflesh that erupted along the pale skin above her lover’s curly hair. 

Antonia’s breath was coming in shallow pants, and her hands were shaking as she raked them through Zira’s hair. “ _ Please _ .” 

Zira wasn’t the type to need to be asked twice before indulging. She turned her head and flattened her tongue against the wet heat of Antonia’s sex. She moaned involuntarily at the taste and licked a long line up from her entrance. Antonia shuddered and rolled her eyes back, pressing her hips forward. Her penchant for enjoying fine food meant that Zira was well-suited to exploration with her tongue, her lips, the gentlest nips of her teeth. She circled Antonia’s most sensitive nub of skin with her tongue, and kissed it ever so lightly. She brought her hand up to rub gentle circles near her entrance with her thumb, then gently slid a finger inside. Her sigh was muffled by her true  _ commitment  _ to lavishing Antonia’s clit with attention. Antonia was so wet, so soft. So warm. 

“You feel incredible, my dear. My love.” She punctuated this with slow, long strokes in and out with her finger. 

“Ah, I um. I feel...that feels  _ so much.  _ You’re  _ so good  _ at this.”

“Look at me, my dearest one.”

She did, and was greeted with a sight she’d never tire of. Zira was looking up at her from under her lashes, one finger still gently thrusting inside her. She smiled in that particularly dazzling way and went back to work. WIth her other hand, she pressed Antonia’s hip into the wall and strained her neck to lick more and more insistent circles around her partner’s most sensitive nub. 

“Ah, Zira,  _ fuck,  _ more, please--”

She slid another finger in, crooking them to rub at her walls just so. Zira tried to keep her moans quiet, but it was becoming more and more of a challenge. She moved her hand from Antonia’s hip and down to rub her own aching wet heat. 

“I love you, angel, I love you, I can’t--don’t stop, please, don’t--” she bit off her sentence with a choked moan, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. She curled over Zira’s head as she came, feeling the orgasm fly from the tips of her toes to the back of her neck. As she fluttered down from the high, she looked down to see that Zira was insistently kissing her inner thigh, and rubbing herself frantically. 

“Wait, wait,” she breathed, “let me do that, please.”

She helped Zira up and led her to straddle her as she sat on the bed. She kissed her deeply, and slid two fingers inside her without preamble. With her thumb, she worked her beautifully drenched folds as Zira rolled her hips and broke the kiss to moan and sigh desperately into Antonia’s shoulder. Her partner was unrelenting, crooking her fingers just so inside her and finding an agonizing, perfect rhythm with her thumb. Zira’s sighs grew more insistent, soft whines cresting in time with Antonia’s strokes. 

With her left hand, Antonia gently lifted Zira’s chin and watched her face for a moment before pressing their foreheads together. She held onto the back of Zira’s neck as her moans became more fractured, more desperate, less rhythmic, and then gently pulled her back. Her golden eyes bored into Zira’s blue ones as they rolled back and her face crumpled with the astonishing release of her climax. 

Antonia stroked a few more times, working her through it, then slid her fingers out and rested her hands on Zira’s full thighs. The blonde’s head was heavy against her shoulder, and she had nestled in so that their chests were flush together. 

“I love you.” 

“I love  _ you _ , angel.”

Zira wouldn’t have guessed that this was a position in which she could fall asleep, but she was warm, and so loved, and Antonia was combing her tousled hair with her long fingers. So she did. 

After a while, Antonia nudged her awake, burrowing her nose into her lover’s cheek. “Angel, I’ve got to go downstairs.” 

“Wha--no, I...oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I didn’t want to waste any of this time, my dear, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, not wasted. Never.” 

Zira lifted herself off of her partner, still pouting. Antonia laughed lightly and kissed her. 

“I’ll write to you as soon as we’re home, my love.”

“I should hope so,” Antonia smirked. 

Zira gave her a watery smile. “I love you. So much. It’s ridiculous, really.”

“Truly. Completely silly.” She gifted Zira with a dazzling, broad, honest smile. “I love you too, angel. I shall see you soon. We’ll both fix it with Bee.” 

She was at the door. Zira looked her up and down, memorizing her wrinkled dress, her long, bare legs, the curls that tumbled around her shoulders. 

“A bientôt, my dear.”

“A bientôt.” She blew a kiss, and then was gone. 


End file.
